A YOUNG British woman has become mum to a staggering 14 Tanzanian children she met after volunteering in an orphanage on her gap year. Letty McMaster, 26, was just 18 years old when a month-long tr… "I was raped at 9 and molested from the ages of 9 through 14, and because of that, I've always wanted to be able to sit down and talk to a group of child molesters and ask them why and how they do what they do," Oprah says. "It's the most honest conversation I've ever had with sex offenders." Watch Oprah's two-hour conversation in its entirety. A 14-year-old girl has allegedly been raped in a Covid-19 treatment center in India, police said. © Pallava Bagla/Corbis News/Getty Images The alleged assault took place at the Sardar Patel Covid... US President Donald Trump said he was "medication free" and revealed more details of his fight with Covid-19 in a televised interview aired Friday, one week after he was hospitalized with the virus. Molested at 14, now I’m 19. I joined this subreddit when it was happening. It kept happening. I just turned 14 and the neighbor boy who was 18 would grope me. He did it in front of my friends, his friends, even his siblings. I would get picked up in a bear hug so my arms were locked down and I wasn’t on the ground and he’d fondle my chest ... India's current account surplus rose to a record $19.8 billion in April-June as its trade deficit narrowed sharply, the Reserve Bank of India said on Wednesday. The current account figure for the first quarter of the fiscal year compared with a surplus of $600 million in the Jan-March quarter, which If you were ever molested/ rape please speak up. You don’t have to go through it alone ️ Xoxo Kayla Email: [email protected] Instagram: breezy2badd. Research has indicated that most people’s earliest memories, on average, date back to when they were 3-1/2 years old. Recent studies of children, however, suggest that our earliest memories are ... lifestyle; real life; Russian schoolgirl, 14, gives birth after boy, 16, allegedly raped her. A Russian schoolgirl who claimed she was impregnated by a 10-year-old but has since alleged she was ... Child sexual abuse, also called child molestation, is a form of child abuse in which an adult or older adolescent uses a child for sexual stimulation. Forms of child sexual abuse include engaging in sexual activities with a child (whether by asking or pressuring, or by other means), indecent exposure (of the genitals, female nipples, etc.), child grooming, and child sexual exploitation ...
2020.10.21 12:34 Yurane Hidden camera step sister
I joined this subreddit when it was happening. It kept happening. I just turned 14 and the neighbor boy who was 18 would grope me. He did it in front of my friends, his friends, even his siblings. I would get picked up in a bear hug so my arms were locked down and I wasn’t on the ground and he’d fondle my chest and rub on my bottom. I kept telling him to stop each time and I finally just decided to say “Hey, if you do this one more time I am leaving and not coming back.” We we’re at the neighborhood park and I was 14 and scared, I didn’t know what to do. So he did it, groped my bottom in front of his siblings. I got up and left and went home, didn’t tell my family because I was scared. Few weeks later the neighborhood crackhead/mom where everyone would gather and hang out was asking me about it and I told her everything, her daughter overheard and sent him a text telling him what I said because she didn’t believe me or something...? Then he sent me a text threatening me and I sat outside on my driveway texting him back saying my grandpa is a lawyer and stuff and to leave me alone I’ll ruin his life (which would be me going on Omegle and telling people what happened and giving them his phone number lol, never did it) He was saying all this crap to me and I was 14 and TERRIFIED, saying he would call the cops and I’d go to jail for lying and stuff like that? I freaked out and started crying and ran inside during a family dinner that consisted of my parents, my sister & her husband & her kids. I just couldn’t stop crying and stuttering because I was so afraid I got my family in trouble. My sister who has never been kind to me ever in my entire life was saying I was lying and that my parents should take my phone away. My parents didn’t really believe me at first either and then went over to the neighbor boys house and talked to his mom and step dad. They started saying I had anger issues and would beat up the kids around my neighborhood and always yelling. I was 14 5’3 maybe 130 pounds with ADHD and severe social anxiety. The neighbor boy was like 6’1 200+pound sweaty neckbeard with acne who would try and coerce me into drinking with him. I don’t want to offend anyone but if you looked at the two of us you would obviously think of him being the bully and not me. My parents were shocked at what they were saying because they know how I am and have extreme anxiety I would never even leave my room. My parents wouldn’t press charges because they didn’t wanna ruin his life but my mom told everyone around the neighborhood what happened. The neighbor boy would make up lies saying my dad chased him around the neighborhood trying to beat him up or that I would stand at his window and watch him and his girlfriend cuddle, which... what??? That’s SO weird and very obviously a lie because I was too afraid to go into my backyard because of him. (Our houses had backyards facing eachother) I was terrified of him to where I was so paranoid of leaving doors unlocked or windows unlocked or even my blinds open. I was scared to sleep at night thinking he would bust open my window and r*pe me and kill me. I thought he would be watching me through the window in my shadow or that he had a hidden camera somewhere in my house. I couldn’t hug anyone for years after that all happened because it would bring back those scary memories. I remember hating myself. I remember what I wore each day it happened. I remember some of the things he said to me. I remember the reactions and pity from people around the neighborhood who knew me. My neighbors would try and look out for me atleastly. Even for years after that he would terrify me and pop up on my Instagram. I tried posting about it telling people my story and he would threaten me and I’d be terrified. I cried so much over all of it. I am 19 years old now and still think about all of it almost everyday. I’m able to hug and touch people know but it really affected my ability to trust and let people in. I tried offing myself multiple times on those years after it. He scared me to the bone. To this day where he is now 20 something, he is trying to get with my friends 16 year old friend and other girls have came out about him. This person who terrified me and gave me trauma, paranoia, and fucked me up. He still walks around the street with everyone he is still a person in our daily society. He showed up to my old job one day at McDonald’s when I was a cashier and I was so terrified I was hiding my face crying and ran to my coworker and asked her to take over then ran into the freezer and cried for a literal hour. My manager kicked him out after he got his food because he wanted to stay and eat, one of the girls who bullied me was in the freezer room comforting me. I am 19 years old and still think about it. I’m on anti depressants and anti anxiety medicine. I started going out with a new guy who I really like and match well with but I am held back by that trauma and I get scared when kissing him or cuddling because of that boy who instilled nothing but fear into my heart. It still affects my day to day. I want to say it gets better but it doesn’t, you start to outgrow it. You get more and more tough from all of the trauma to where you think that wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to you. Days upon days upon years of me thinking I’m a whore and nothing but a sextoy to be used. I still hate my body and will see myself as a pleasure tool. Everyday my skin grows thicker and I try to push it far back and think about everything I have now but I’m still terrified of him.
So, Molested what do you think of my story? What would you have done differently? How do you cope? If you have had a molestation experience does it still affect you?
Thank you for reading.
submitted by Yurane to Molested [link] [comments]
2020.10.16 21:07 ScrapyardGod Hidden camera step sister
Probably missed all the good windows for this, but if it gets a couple more eyes on the derby then why not.
First | Next>
“Guess Tsuk was right after all. Now I owe her lunch.” Holland swept the binoculars over half of the ship. The only half that was down there. A big, nasty tear split right down the middle (or perhaps two thirds, you never could tell without seeing the full design). The rest of it would be a hundred miles off if she had the math right and he’d never had reason to doubt her math before.
Which made him wonder why he’d made that stupid bet to begin with.
“You think there are any survivors?” he asked the dog. Triska flattened her ears against her skull, whining at the wreck. He put his hand on her back, running it down her spine. She wasn’t shaking yet, but it was close. Too many fires. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Holland had seen worse. It looked like a fuel line had gone up on impact, but only the line. Whether that meant the main tanks were on the other half or had been kind enough to fall off during reentry was up in the air. Well, it was up in the air and now-
“Don’t make jokes about others’ tragedies,” he muttered to himself, picturing Yorna’s disapproving look. “Even to yourself.”
Triska barked, as if to agree with him, then hopped out the window of their buggy. He followed suit, putting his boots to the gray-flecked earth. The scent of burning oil was thick in the air, had been even a mile off, and the smoke was forming a cloud that turned the sky dark. This thing would burn for days if no one stopped it. Which meant it’d destroy everything worth taking inside.
Risk some, win some, plead to the Gods to tip the scales.
Holland grabbed the mirror-sheet out of the back and threw it over his car, making sure it covered every bit of visible metal. A few moments later, the transparent cloth turned the same color as the ground, a bit of sky on top to mimic the horizon. It wouldn’t fool anyone close, but a good ways off? Practically invisible.
“Alright girl, let’s get going.” He set off down the hill towards the wreck. Then he turned back around and plied Triska with treats until she followed him.
“Come on girl, we’ll be fine. We’ve got our helmets.” He strapped Triska’s on carefully, making sure the caps covered her ears. The rest of her suit had to be put on with Tsuk’s help, though she didn’t seem to mind wearing it once it was on. “There you go.”
Triska barked, the noise coming through the radio in his own mask. He slipped it on, pulled it tight, and flipped up the hood over his head. Nice and smoke proof. He even had a spare.
This was all a good idea. This would make him rich.
“This is going to get us killed,” he said, perhaps a bit too loudly, as they approached the wreck. Triska barked.
The torn edge of the ship rose like the shattered ribs of some great creature. Or maybe its neck, head freshly severed. He could see something pouring out of a ripped pipe, a painfully bright white that turned to fog before it even hit the ground. Some kind of coolant?
It was at least keeping the fires at bay. Most of them were below the ship where all the fuel was leaking, mixing with the melted remains of its maneuvering thrusters. He hadn’t seen the display, but one of the skywatchers had the whole thing blasting through the radio back home.
Crazy bastards had tried to put an entire journey’s worth of fuel through their jets to level off their descent. And it worked! Right up until the strain ripped the ship in half. Long-haul transport, never meant to go into an atmosphere, let alone reentry.
What a waste.
Holland whistled for Triska to stay close (not that she needed the order) as they circled around to the other side. He wouldn’t dare try an airlock in this state. No telling which ones were still pressurized or what they were holding. Better to go through the already open hole. Under an awning of twisted metal that honestly looked ready to collapse, the fires were less threatening. They’d need to be fast.
“Alright girl, we’re going for the maintenance closet,” he told himself more than the dog. He unhooked one of the purple bulbs from his belt, chucking it towards a patch of flames. It broke on contact, scattering a thin mist that choked the fire out within seconds. He still stepped lightly and guided Triska through, it did nothing for the heat. “They’re secured, armored, and full of all sorts of goodies that might fit in my bag.”
Triska whined, hovering between his legs as he cleared them a path into the building. The smoke was thinner in the hallways, most of it building atop the ceiling and filtering out of the many, many unplanned skylights. He reached up and stuck a SpyEye right on the underside of the door, making sure it had a good view of the surrounding desert. No sense leaving things to chance.
“There should be one near the back. By the cargo bay. Though maybe they’re hauling some of those fancy androids. We could just turn one on and order it to follow us back.” Wouldn’t that be something. He could sell it to the bar as a novelty tender. Make a mint. Pipe dream, those things never survived the landing. Someone would get a good haul of scrap from the cargo bay, he was on a time limit. And a weight limit besides.
The first door took little more than a crowbar and some elbow grease to open. Already out of alignment from the crash and looking like something big and heavy had bounced off it on the way down. It’d done its job though. Inside the air was clearer (though not by much) and the scorchmarks didn’t travel so far up the walls. They were that odd grey-blue all the modern ships seemed to favor. A razor-thin covering so no one had to look at the bare walls all the time.
Holland could see it torn through in places, alloy visible underneath. And the body, first one of the night, sprawled out along the corner.
“You’ve had a rough time, brother.” The man had been holding on to a light fixture when they’d impacted and some of it had come off with him. His fingers had dug so far into the bulb they’d shattered it, broken glass sticking straight through. He’d hit the wall hard, enough to snap his head forward. The back of his head was dry in the heat, sticky and thankfully hidden by hair.
It was quick. That was all any of them could hope for. Let them all be quick.
Triska whined as he pulled the man off the way, laying him out in the hallway. It took a moment to brush the glass off his hands and fold them across the chest. Let him look decent. Let him at least have a bit of decency before Holland rifled through his pockets like a street urchin.
He could feel the dog’s eyes on his back as he searched. The hell did she know, she was a dog. And this was business.
“Keycard!” he said, throwing on a smile under his helmet just to prove she couldn’t get to him. It was thin as a wafer and reflective in the emergency lights. Kai Sturnof. Handsome enough, grinning giddily like he’d been telling jokes to the camera. Didn’t look that way now. Looked dead.
Well. Yorna could have his name for the wall. That was more than he could offer most of them.
Something heavy and metal creaked above him and Holland let the body alone. If he wanted to get out the same way he came in (or at all) it was best not to linger. Most of them would be buried or burned in their own time, they didn’t need his pity.
The keycard got him through the second door and the third, but the fourth once more required a crowbar. He only passed one more body, a poor slip of a girl who’d been thrown through a display screen until she was left hanging by her arm, impaled on shattered plastic. He didn’t spare the time for her. Couldn’t, not with the ship still burning and the smoke trailing high into the air.
Triska howled when they passed a third and Holland forced himself not to look at it.
“Alright, so, if the ship patterns are still standardized then we should be coming up on the cargo bay.” His words marked the appearance of a massive door. The kind that looked ready to take a load of thermite and shrug it off. Hopefully Kai had clearance or this would have been a complete waste. “Maintenance almost always keeps a supply closet attached to it. Cargo’s where all the money is, they’ll protect it with their-”
Lives. They hadn’t. They couldn’t.
“That’s what we’re after, anyway.” Holland flashed the keycard at the door. The lights flicked and for a moment he thought it was too banged up to open. Then, with an agonize grinding of gears, the blast doors slid open. Halfway. Still enough for him to slip through. “Now let’s find it fast, this place is….”
Holland’s hands were cold as they slid along the inside of the door. The metal below his gloves was freezing. The whole room was frigid. He could see mist forming in the air, frost creeping along the walls, and a dense fog up to his ankles. A catastrophic cryogenics spill, couldn’t be anything else.
“Please just be a food hauler.” Holland pressed onward, down the short hallway that served as the cargo’s airlock. Triska’s booted feet padded along behind him, the dog sticking to his leg like she was glued there. The other doors were already opening and he could see beyond. “Oh no….”
The ship wasn’t a hauler.
It was a transport.
Ten lines of pods were stacked to the ceiling, racks running all the way to the back wall. Most were broken. Or leaking. Or smoking ominously as their cryofluid drained through the gaps and onto the floor. Massive puddles of the stuff were forming, stuck on the left side where the ship was slightly slanted. The fog rose from them like a living thing, building on itself until it spilled further out onto the floor.
Every tube had a body. There had to be hundreds.
“They were supposed to have cargo.” Holland swallowed and tried to remember the signs for intruding on a tomb. This was, he didn’t know what this was, blasphemy certainly. Some sort of heresy. To come here without anyone from the Registry or anything to take...inventory was the wrong word, he was sure of it.
Triska shook beside him, now silent. Her head was pointed towards the closest tube. The face of it had cracked all the way down the front. The man inside had his eyes half open, head lolling, pale skin turned ashen grey by the cold. The tubes had come out, the pod had tried to wake him up, instead it had drowned him before it could freeze him to death.
He’d heard crash survivors talk about things like that. Nightmares they had even decades after their wreck. The stories were endless and now here was the truth for all of them. Drowning, broken glass impaling sleepers, being thrown bodily through the pane, electrocuting as the circuits failed, simply being left behind as the power failed and dying with no one to wake you up….
“I guess,” he started, having to stop and swallow down bile. “I guess we should look for survivors?”
Triska’s helmet turned towards him. He couldn’t see her eyes. Only imagine them.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to save people. She wanted to forget the damn thing. She couldn’t bear the thought. She wanted a drink. She wanted ketamine and a Scrap Samurai marathon.
“Now I’m projecting on the dog.” Holland put his fingers to the edges of his mask, squeezing until he felt cold metal dig into his temples. He could leave now, report his findings, lead a volunteer expedition back here who might have a chance of getting people out. And bring in far more goods for the city than his little salvaging run could. All above board, no one would give him guilt for it.
But here he was, looking at hundreds of failed pods in a burning ship that might lose what power it had at any moment.
“One line,” he told himself as he started a walk down the first aile, forcing himself to stare at the caskets as he passed. He said it again when he started on the second, going slower to check the racks above. And the third. And the fourth.
It was the fifth when he finally found something promising. All the way at the top, one of the pods looked whole, glowing a faint blue-white. He could see a silhouette inside, obscured by frost.
Holland tried the console, ignoring the way Triska growled at one of the corpses. It was probably the eyes. Black lenses shoved into its eyesockets like the man had been born with cameras.
The buttons were all labeled in script he couldn’t read and the switches were locked behind a key. Even if he could work them, it was unlikely he could bring the thing down without breaking it. The only thing he could get was a name.
“Not your lucky day, brother.” Up ten lines, must have been a hundred feet. No ladders to climb, he didn’t have enough rope or any kind of grappler. “No sense breaking my own neck and still leaving you up there, yeah?”
The hell was he saying, the man couldn’t hear him. Probably wouldn’t hear anything else. If he was lucky he’d just freeze to death without waking up.
Holland kept going, ignoring anything above the ground floor. Triska had started to wander, some of the fear dying off. He was glad she had her own helmet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he turned around to see her nibbling on someone.
He’d given up when she’d started barking, nose pointed directly at a pod tucked into the far corner. That was what saved it. Others had outright fallen out of their racks back here, spilling all over the floor, their occupants crushed. The lucky corner was secured against both walls and the floor. Barely looked jostled.
“This we can handle.” Holland crept his way over the broken glass until he stood face to face with the pod. He had to scrape the ice off the front with a knife before he could see the inside. The girl didn’t so much as twitch.
Young. Teenager at most with a whole mop’s worth of blonde hair tied up above her head. Her shoulders were slim and what he could see of her arms put them as long. Had probably never spent a day on a planet before now. That might be a problem.
Her eyes were still shut tight and there was a tube sticking down her open mouth. He leaned close to the glass and watched her chest. It might have been his imagination, but he could see it move.
“Breathing.” Holland tried not to relax too much. He still had to get her out of there. His buggy sat four, he had a spare mask in his pack, and it wasn’t too far of a drive.
He could save one and be happy with that.
She hadn’t come alone though. Right next to her was another blonde, a bit more stocky, complexion a touch darker like she’d seen some actual sun in her life. Also thrown halfway through the glass, her neck split open by a jagged edge. Her blood mixed with the coolant and froze on the shards. Miserable way to die.
“This is going to be terrible no matter when you wake up.” Holland turned his attention to the panel on the side. It had a small display with vitals on it. He couldn’t read the words, but the numbers looked fine. Nothing was flashing or in red or seemed outrageous. It hasn’t had her name.
“Never seen Sylvia spelled like that.” Triska tried to stick her head up to the glass, staring at the girl hidden behind it. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her out.”
He wasn’t so sure.
There was a symbol he thought was emergency release. But it could be anything. Who knew where this ship was from or what sort of schema it used. Could be a criminal ship and that the execute button for all he knew.
Though if he just smashed the pod, she’d likely drown.
Holland pressed the button. A few more lit up along with a confirmation on screen. He pushed the one that was flashing and thumbed the word that looked closest to ‘yes’.
There was a long, heartstopping moment when the machine did nothing but make noise. He was half expecting to see the coolant turn red as the girl was slowly liquefied, but instead the level began to drop.
“Gods must be smiling.” Holland kept his hold on the button and watched as the whole pod drained. He heard something splatter against the inside of the wall. One of the pipes must have burst from the suction. The whole infrastructure was falling apart, she wouldn’t have lasted hours. “Gods are smiling right at you.”
When the tank was empty, the tube extracted itself, rolling back up into a hollow in the door. He held his breath until she took hers, a wet, gasping thing he could hear through the treated glass. Triska barked happily, spinning around and thumping her feet on the floor.
“Take it easy, sister.” Holland saw another flashing button and pushed it, hearing the clicks of a lock opening. Idiot-proof technology, perfect. He grabbed onto the handle that deployed itself, pulling outward. “You’ve had a rough night.”
The door moved one inch, then stopped hard enough to jostle his arm. The second pull got the same. Then the third. The latch was stuck!
“Of all the things to break, it’s the latch?” Nevermind, the gods were playing games with the girl. Still, that wasn’t so much of a problem. Hell, he could probably pick it given a few-
Triska growled, low and angry. A moment later, an alarm sounded in his ears, the picture from the SpyEye forced itself upon his helmet. There was a cloud of dust coming from the greater desert, too small and focused to be a sandstorm. Company.
“Okay. No time to disassemble the latch.” Holland leaned closer to the glass. Behind it, the girl was writhing, her eyes fluttering open and closed. For just a second they looked silver, then switched to a more neutral brown. “Oh...oh! Hello? You awake in there? Do these pods have an internal release?”
He tapped his knuckles on the glass and watched her shudder, rolling in her restraints and muttering something. Completely incomprehensible.
“Right. You’re tied down AND there’s a language barrier.” Holland went back to tapping buttons, hoping he’d just left the lock on somehow. None of them were lit now, the whole pod shutting down. Failsafe to keep him from accidentally freezing her? “Why couldn’t you be from the Shogunate or the Tsar League, I can read their scribbles.”
The pod shook and his heart froze in his chest (they wouldn’t put a self-destruct on cryo would they?) until he turned to see Triska had jumped up onto the glass. Her paws scrabbled at its surface, boots sliding off without making a scratch.
“Even if your claws were out, I don’t think you could cut-” Cut. If he couldn’t get to the latch, why didn’t he just go straight for the glass?
Holland shoved Triska back to the floor and pulled out his multitool. It took a bit of digging to find the saw in its case, but he’d sharpened the teeth last week. Unless this glass was treated for void (ridiculous expense for something that should never leave this sealed room) it’d go through it like nothing.
“If this goes wrong, it’ll be the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done. So try to stay still in there.” Holland set the blade for two inches and started near the bottom. No screams or alarms sounded as he sunk it into the glass so he started upward. Just had to hope he didn’t blind her with the glass spray. “Don’t look directly into the saw!”
Triska whined at him, her ears pinned back.
“Yes, I know she can’t understand me, I’m grasping at straws!” The feed from SpyEye wasn’t helping. He could see shapes in the dust now, a long and mean looking shadow. A whole cruiser was coming out to meet them. And why wouldn’t they, there was a big, juicy Imperial ship right here.
Holland could see the smaller cars running around it like flies by the time he finally made it back to the bottom of the glass. Then it just took a bit of work with the crowbar and he had the glass off and resting against the floor.
Silvea stared at him, eyes open and mouth working like she had something to chew on. Holland gave her some time and worked on the restraints. He’d never woken someone up from cryo, he didn’t know how long it would take for the lights to come back on. Too long.
She made it one syllable before her eyes started to water and she made the most horrific cough.
“Right. Whatever this stuff is probably shouldn’t be in your lungs.” Holland took out the spare mask and slipped it on her squirming face, having to tighten the straps by a few notches to get it to sit right.
She made a few more noises as her breath came back. Holland ignored them in favor of scooping her up. He could see the cruiser approaching, an angry god in its own right. Any questions either of them had could wait until they could actually speak. Until then, Triska was more liable to get something out of her. The dog was staring at their new ‘friend’ and whining like a shoddy engine.
“Now just stay calm and….” Holland watched her arm come up at a snail's pace, weakly curled into something close to a fist. He caught it. More out of principle than anything. “Don’t do that. Just rest. We’ll get you somewhere a bit less horrifying.” He tucked her head against his shoulder and took a step over the broken glass.
He just had to get her one rack away, where she couldn’t see the presumed mother. If anything would set her off, it was that. Maybe he was going about this too fast. He could have at least taken the time to cover her up or put her in a pose more presentable.
Holland hadn’t made it three steps before a fist slammed into his jaw. He stumbled, almost losing his footing, and he knew that any chance of getting out of here cleanly had just gone out the window.
The girl was staring at the corpse. She looked frozen, caught just before the inevitable. He tried to get a hand to her mouth, but she let out an ear-piercing shriek.
Then legs pressed against his chest until he was forced to drop her, the girl flopping onto the ground right between the broken pods.
There were more corpses down there, half-crushed from the fall. The screaming got louder.
“Easy, sister, easy.” Holland tried to pull her up, but she squirmed out of his grip. He watched her go a step before tumbling back to the floor, panicked breath coming from beneath her mask.
All at once she ripped it off and he heard a wet splatter, the girl retching. Cryosickness. Shock. Grief. He couldn’t even imagine how all of that felt together.
The SpyEye chirped. Scout cars were arriving, circling the base. They did not have time.
He needed her moving.
He needed her to trust him.
He pulled off his mask.
submitted by ScrapyardGod to redditserials [link] [comments]
2020.10.12 06:15 sugarhuney Hidden camera step sister
Hello Reddit! I’m really new to posting to this place, so I hope I’ve put this in the correct forum. With that stated, let’s start, shall we?
So, as a bit of backstory, a short while after I was hired and trained for my position at my current workplace, which is a minimum security prison, I made friends with a young woman who I believed had taken me under her wing. She was only a few years older than me, and had been working for about a year before I had been hired. She had gone through a lot of terrible things at this prison. I’ll call her Amanda. Amanda had worked on one of the other shifts and been sexually harassed by one of her coworkers, and was also heavily harassed by the inmates.
After multiple investigations and many, many reports, Amanda was moved to another shift, third shift, to be specific. Third shift seemed to be working wonderfully for her, as she wasn’t being harassed as badly anymore. The shift she had been on previously was still writing false reports on her and spreading rumors, though, but she didn’t seem bothered because she had all of the higher ups on her side to help her through as she disproved the rumors and gained favor.
I, as a newbie, looked up to her as a mentor and a friend as she helped to train me to understand the shift better, gave me tips on how to protect myself from the rumors, and listened to me when I was having difficulty with job duties and other staff.
When she wasn’t around, I had a sergeant tell me I was useless, that I should quit, and that I should kill myself because I wasn’t useful. As a person with severe anxiety and depression, this upset me heavily and put me into a funk where I had attempted suicide, and failed.
I continued to work at this place through my funk and was supported by Amanda and another coworker, and I supported them as well the best I could, though I’m sure it wasn’t as much as they needed from me.
Amanda and I started hanging out after work after we had become close enough friends. During this time, she had stated that our Lieutenant thought I was stupid, which prompted me into an even deeper depression. I didn’t think much of her offhanded comment, as she was a very blunt and open person, and continued to hang out with and be friends with her.
During the time I spent with her, as I was dealing heavily with depression and suicidal ideations from the abuse I was dealing with at that place, a Sergeant position had opened up. Now, by policy, a person would have had to have worked at the facility or one of the sister facilities for at least two years before they could even apply for the position. At this point in time, Amanda had been employed at the facility for approximately a year and a half, but she was given a special exception in which she was able to apply for the position.
She got it, and I was nothing but supportive while the rest of the facility was in uproar over the obvious unfairness over this situation, but I didn’t quite get why it was such a bad thing at this point.
This is where the real shit starts.
After she became Sergeant, she began making tons of offhanded comments to me while I was trying to handle my mental health better, such as “I’ve been receiving TONS of reports about you,” “People are telling me you’re just sitting in the breakroom and staring blankly off into space once all the inmates go to bed,” and “I am defending you to my last breath over everything everyone says about you.”
She had finished her training as a Sergeant in February and was getting used to the ropes after I had had a short stay in a mental hospital and took some time off for recuperation by order of the Warden. When I returned, she had received her team of people to work with on how to make the facility better. During one of the meetings where she was discussing what everyone was doing wrong, as our facility is known best for, I asked why the whole meeting had to be a shit fest on the Corporals for not doing their jobs right when we’re the only ones working the floors while the Sergeants sit in their office and watch cameras. I did not get a response in that moment, but after the meeting, she directed me off to the side and told me that I had had no right to call her out like that after she had worked so hard on the reports of what needed to be fixed.
I told her that I didn’t feel as though I was in the wrong. I thought that with her becoming a Sergeant, that things would change and perhaps people would start working to support the Corporals a little better, but it appeared I was wrong.
Come March, I had been having troubles with another coworker I had thought had been a friend of mine. No details are needed here, but I asked Amanda if she would speak to him about the issues I was having, and she stated she would give him a counseling log. I didn’t even want it taken to that level, but I agreed to the counseling log as long as he would stop bothering me.
She had told someone else about the issues I was experiencing and turned the entire situation, which could have been solved with a verbal warning, into a full investigation within the facility. I was extremely angry at the fact that she had gone against my wishes and turned the situation into a big deal when it did not need to be one and yelled at her in her office over it.
I apologized to her later about what I had said, and told her she didn’t deserve to be called the awful things I called her, but I still was not pleased that she had taken the steps to start an investigation when I had expressed that as the very last thing I wanted.
Things calmed down after that, and we were still hanging out together after work for coffee. All in the month of April, I received a bill for a forced in-patient stay from February and she found out, so I asked her to stay quiet about it as it set me into panic attacks from the way I was treated. Later on, she made a comment about how my other Sergeant had spoken to her and stated that it was time to push me out of the facility. This is the month where she decided it was best to destroy me.
In mid April, I was having trouble with a newbie who happened to be the sister of Amanda’s boyfriend. The newbie was arguing with me consistently over policies and how regular nightly duties are conducted. As such, since she wouldn’t listen to me, I suggested each time that we verify the process with Amanda, who was not only a Sergeant, but a Field Training Officer. It is literally her job to show new hires how to do their job duties correctly.
The third time I had to verify with this new hire on a process, which happened to be over mail, I called Amanda again in order to explain how the process was done, as I was at my wit’s end with the arguing. Amanda told me that if I was having issues, I could report to her office and speak with her about them, so I complied.
When I got to her office, my direct quote was “I like “x”, but I am so tired of the arguing.”
Immediately upon hearing this, Miranda immediately jumped to the new hire’s side, since she would soon be her sister in law, I assume, stating that “x is sharp, she’s going to ask questions over every little thing,” to which I had to explain to her that there was a difference between asking questions over how to do something and arguing that her way was right.
As I explained the three situations I had to correct and then verify with Amanda, she stated that there was one situation I had done incorrectly, that it was changed just that week, and that no one had been informed of it.
This conversation quickly spiraled into an argument over failure to pass on information, in which she had decided she had enough of me being frustrated and stated that it wasn’t all about me, then brought up my hospital stay, which I had asked her only days before to not mention due to the panic attacks it gives me. (I have several full reports and quotes on this specific situation if anyone wants more detail. Please ask- it shows just how awful this situation was, but this post is long enough already.)
Needless to say, right when she brought up the hospital stay, I spiraled into a full panic attack. I couldn’t breathe or speak correctly, and I couldn’t see straight. I needed a moment to get out and at least try to calm down, but Amanda wouldn’t let me leave her office. She said I needed to wait and hear her out despite my protests about needing to leave and calm down.
When it finally became apparent that I couldn’t pay attention because I was crying so hard and hyperventilating, she told me to go calm down and not to leave the building we were in.
I went straight to the restroom, but I couldn’t make myself any better. She later found me and made the situation worse. Way worse.
She told me about how she felt that she was in the right for what she did and said because of how I’m always complaining. She brought up my issue with the cloth masks we’re required to wear, and how I had spoken with the Assistant Warden about them. She also felt the need to say that I blame everything on my mental health.
At that point, I had had more than enough and told her that I couldn’t hear any more of it. I can’t breathe and I’m crying so hard from the way she triggered me. I told her that I would not be any better for the rest of the night and I needed to go home unless she wanted the inmates to see me in such a state.
She told me she would send me home, but she’d be writing a report over how it was over mental health issues, which I am certain she managed to falsify to manipulate the situation to her benefit.
Before I left, she had to make it even worse by telling me that she still felt like she was right and she hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even say anything to her- I just left and cried for hours at my dad’s house afterward.
The next night, she caught me alone and brought the previous night up again and told me AGAIN that she was right, and that she had told the Assistant Warden about what she had done and the Assistant Warden was completely fine with what she did. She then brought up the fact that she had called for a welfare check on me after I left (she is completely knowledgeable that half of why my in-patient stay was so bad was because of the way the police had treated me.), and that after my father had spoken to the Captain about the incident, he had granted her a lawyer for legal troubles. She then made a point to tell me that she trusted me, but if any of the information of how she treated me that night got let out and she was brought into a legal situation, she could lose her kids (as she was in the middle of a divorce).
I won’t even get into how I felt in that moment. The emotions are still painful to bring up.
After this, I spoke to her as little as possible. I reported incidents to another Sergeant or directly to the Lieutenant, and then I was reprimanded by my Lieutenant for not reporting to her (this was in May, less than a month after the incident). I suspect it’s because they’re virtually best friends as well. I don’t know why else I would be reprimanded for reporting to one Sergeant rather than another. I wasn’t being malicious in doing so- I was just trying to spare myself some hurt. I figured if she was willing to be so unbelievably awful to me because she couldn’t answer a question (“Why aren’t we informing people of changes when it affects them?”), what else would she do? I was scared of turning anything in to her in the first place, and it this point I realized she was slowly trying to break me with the comments she had been making throughout our time together.
After my argument with Amanda, my Lieutenant started coming down hard on me, giving me reprimand after reprimand and quickly moving to counseling logs because I either was reporting to him or my other Sergeant, or because I “wasn’t sharing enough information” despite the fact that I arguably write the most reports out of anyone of the same position as myself. (After asking multiple Corporals, I’ve found on average that they write about 1-3 every month, while I average about 15, not counting the reports on Amanda.)
Amanda took a break from hurting me as my Lieutenant took over in June. He gave me yet another counseling log solely for not reporting to Amanda, and had taken away my pre-approved vacation time without telling me beforehand. He also stopped attempting to train me for the Sergeant position to focus on a Corporal with less seniority than I have, and took away every attempt I could have at learning more in the facility because he didn’t think I could handle a position with more responsibility.
In July, I thought I found a phone on an inside window while I was outside conducting a search. I couldn’t immediately report my finding due to the possibility of raising suspicion from the inmates, so I radioed another Corporal check the area. She didn’t find anything.
By the time I came inside, I couldn’t find Amanda and Count was about to start, so I told the other Corporal what I found and we kept an eye out for the phone as we conducted Count, but the item was hidden behind a bunk and we couldn’t search directly for it at that time.
When we had finished, Amanda was conducting Count with another Corporal and I really had to use the bathroom, so I went to do my business.
While I was out, Amanda came back and the other Corporal reported to her on what I had found. Amanda had told her not to look for the item without another person present, but she herself didn’t go with the Corporal because she was collecting mail from the mailboxes!
When I came out of the bathroom, both Amanda and the other Corporal were gone, so I thought they had gone to look for the phone, so I went to log Count Time. I didn’t think much more of the situation, as nothing more was brought up to me that night.
The next night, my Lieutenant called me up to his office and ripped into me, shaking with rage because I hadn’t reported a possible cell phone to Miranda. This is where I learned she had been collecting mail and didn’t search the area. I had to tell him that the item was reported by someone else as soon as it was able to be reported, but that didn’t seem to be good enough.
He yelled at me for waiting too long, for reporting to a Corporal instead of a Sergeant, and for the item not being found due to my negligence, then gave me a counseling log and ordered me to sign it. I refused, as I didn’t believe I had done anything wrong, then pointed out that Amanda had been collecting mail at the time when the other Corporal reported the item to her, and she didn’t immediately go to search for it despite it being a security threat and the mail being “unimportant in the grand scheme of things” as she had told me herself during our argument in April.
Upon hearing this, my Lieutenant calmly turned to her and gently told her that that was a bad idea, and she could do better next time now that she knows.
At this point, I blew up. This was completely unfair. How come I was screamed at for doing all I could with what I had in that moment, and she was gently reprimanded and wasn’t receiving a counseling log for something she KNEW better than to do?! I yelled back at them both and finally accused them of targeting me, which set my Lieutenant off. He screamed at me that he wasn’t targeting me, and that I was going to sign the counseling log, which I angrily refused.
I told him to send me home. I was too emotional to perform my job duties that night, and he agreed, then had Amanda follow me like a dog as I went to get my lunch bag and turn my keys and radio in. I called in for the next day because I was so angry and anxious that I couldn’t calm down, and I especially couldn’t bear to be around the two of them after I had been screamed at and escorted like a dog when I went to get my stuff and leave.
When I came back, I was called up to the Lieutenant’s office again and the first thing I see is my Lieutenant grinning at me as he hands me another counseling log for calling him and Amanda “fucking bastards” (My bad, I know. I was PISSED) and then tells me I’m on sick call observation.
I didn’t say anything other than refusing to sign the counseling log again. The observation log was bullshit and only an attempt to hurt me more. I had called in because of mental distress, but before that, I didn’t have a single sick call since my last breakdown from my fight with Amanda, which I remind you had happened in mid-April. This was the end of July.
August was uneventful, thanks to some of the reports I wrote, but more crap has happened in SeptembeOctober which has prompted me to write this. I know it’s long, I know it’s probably not written very well, and I know I’ve only shown you the big incidents I actually wrote down, but I’m at my wit’s end.
I can’t quit, because I can’t pay my rent without this job.
I’ve spoken to the Warden, the Captain, the Assistant Warden, Head Admin, and an internal complaint agent, but it’s like Amanda can’t be touched. The reports I’ve written have slowed/stopped my Lieutenant for the most part and made him right some of the wrongs, but it’s like nothing affects Amanda in the slightest.
I’ve contacted my Union, the EOC, and the Ombudsman, but the Union isn’t doing much, my EOC agent has quit and placed my investigation at the bottom of the list, and the Ombudsman doesn’t believe most of my story and has told me that if it’s as bad as it is, I should be filing for workplace harassment (which I have. I’ve done everything I can for inside the facility.).
I’d just like to know if there’s anything else I can do. Amanda has made my life a living hell without a care, and she’s set my Lieutenant against me. My workplace won’t fire anyone, and none of my superiors will stop her actions no matter what I do. Do I have enough here to take legal action? I swear this isn’t entirely one-sided, though it’s my point of view. I don’t think I’ve ever actually provoked her. I don’t go out of my way to be mean to people.
You can ask for further incidents in the comments. She’s doing this all on her own to sabotage me. I want to know how I can make it stop.
TL;DR: My sergeant is awful and is actively targeting me, lying about situations to get me into trouble, and has completely set my Lieutenant against me. What can I do to make it stop other than quit?
submitted by sugarhuney to workplace_bullying [link] [comments]
2020.10.11 23:38 kaleviko Hidden camera step sister
In P2, Shelly and her friends were having a night out in the Roadhouse. Becky's relationship became a topic.
Shelly: "No, you guys, my daughter is with the wrong guy."Earlier, I proposed that this was linked to Becky's "fucking nightmare" that had paired him with a wrong Steven, for one reason or another. But there probably was more stuffed to this short exchange as Renee's "everybody loves Steven" sounded not just absurd but also intentionally clunky.
Renee: "Are you kidding me? Everybody loves Steven."
Norma: "Everybody down! Get down!"In P15, Steven had something detailed to say about his time together with Gersten as the two were agonizing over something terrible under a giant tree in the forest.
Steven: "I liked to get down and fight with you and fuck. Just so you know ... that I like your cunt. Like, sometimes, it's so amazing."So, we got to Gersten again. Apart from a quick glimpse in P11, we hadn't seen these two together - and wouldn't see either of them again - so the sudden, strong display of emotions between them was kind of baffling. On the other hand, this as such would imply there was more to their story than superficially met the eye.
Diane: "My sister's name is Jane, my half sister. She's married to a man named Douglas Jones. But everybody calls him Dougie. And her nickname's Janey-E."Two women called Douglas Jones as Dougie during the season. One was obviously Janey-E. The other was Chantal in P16 as she and Hutch were staking out Jones's house and the FBI arrived to look for him as well.
Hutch: "Is one of them guys Dougie? Douglas?"Earlier, we saw Steven give Gersten some "great fucking feedback", to quote him in P5. Chantal was the one other woman who got similar comments. In P2, Mr C asked her to come over to him. She spread herself in front of him.
Chantal: "Do any of them look anything like our boss? No, stupid, none of them is Dougie."
Mr C: "You're nice and wet."So, in one way or another, "everybody" led to Gersten while also linking her to Chantal. Earlier, I proposed that in this story that seems to be spread into multiple parallel tellings, where the same characters play different roles and have different faces and names in different versions of reality, Chantal was the same as Nurse Marge who was shown taking care of some man that Beverly had arrived to see in P11, and she was also an unnamed Woman in Car who was extremely upset about getting stuck in traffic as she needed to take a sick girl to have dinner with her uncle.
2020.10.06 00:18 500scnds Hidden sister step camera
|How did you type all this?||I can touch type. It's an essential skill.|
|the below is a reply to the above|
|Do you have some type of software that reads certain things out? I wasn’t trying to be rude so my apologies, just very curious/interested! Hats off to you.||Sure, I use a screenreader. It's a piece of software that uses synthesised speech to read back what's on the screen. And I navigate using the keyboard rather than a mouse.|
|Thank you for doing this AMA! Its really fascinating and I'm learning a lot! I noticed in some of your comments you said you enjoy cooking. In my own experience, cooking and baking are extremely visual activities (for example, like knowing when a pancake is ready to be flipped, or properly cleaning and preparing a chicken, or when ground beef has been cooked completely). I would imagine that you use taste, touch, and smell, to guide you through some aspects of cooking. But even then, the information you could possibly get is still limited. What do you specifically look for as indicators to help you cook? I'm also interested in what dishes you find the easiest to make and what dishes you find the most difficult.||All of that information you can get non-visually. You can tell ground bief is cooked by the texture when you touch it with a spoon. Other things by the smell. It's not more limited, it's just an alternative method.|
|I love experimenting with different things, I went through a phase of baking lots of bread. At the moment I'm into building complex salads and working on really healthy recipes. I cooked a meal for 60 people, that was pretty intense!|
|whose voice is reading my question to you?||A very synthesised American voice.|
|Does colour mean anything to you ?||Not really, it's an abstract concept.|
|Do you watch or should I say listen to porn?||Nah, it just doesn't do anything for me.|
|As someone who plays video games and watch shows to kill time when I’m bored, I never thought about what a blind person would do to kill time when they’re bored other than listening to music. What do you do to pass time?||Read, watch films and tv, mindlessly browse the internet. There are also audio games, and it's possible to play some regular games if you're blind, but I'm not really a gamer.|
|How has voice technology (like Siri or Google Assistant) changed the way you interact with things (if you use it at all)? If you have it: how has it made life better or worse? If you don't have it: why not?||It's convenient because I can set a timer when cooking hands free! But also, something like an echo dot is designed to be used without vision, so I'm not actually having to deal with an accessibility barrier. I get exactly the same functionality from it that a sighted person does, and that is an important consideration.|
|how has the covid-19 pandemic affected you, as a blind person specifically/differently?||Not so much now. At first my concern was in relation to grocery delivery services. I didn't want to go to the supermarket because many places were refusing to provide assistance, but also everyone was using delivery services, so slots weren't easily accessible for those of us who really needed them. It's calmed down quite a bit now though.|
|Another issue relates to accessible information. A lot of the stats are shown as images, with no explanation. Which means we're shut out from accessing what could be very crucial info.|
|Do you experience any visuals in your mind? For example, like when you dream?||I don't. I've never been able to see so this is impossible for me.|
|Based on your life so far and what you have learned from others what is your favorite color?||I don't have one. I usually say purple just because people demand an answer and it's easier to give them one.|
|Do you like puppies?||I do.|
|What is it like to move around. Is it hard and do you feel out a room as you walk through it?||It's not hard because I've always been blind so know how to navigate as a blind person. When outside I travel using a white cane, this is also true if I'm inside buildings like shops etc. But if I'm at my house or friends houses I just walk around and learn where things are.|
|What’s something people do/say that is ableist but not commonly acknowledged as such? How can sighted people be better allies to blind people?||"You do so well for a blind person," has to be one of the most rude things people can say. Because what they're saying is that actually, they don't expect blind people to be doing very well at all, so the fact that I'm a moderately functional adult who doesn't get enough sleep, drinks too much coffee and is constantly stressed is a very very good thing. When I'm actually very typical for someone in their mid 20's.|
|Just treat blind people like people, and support us with fighting for accessibility and equal rights. That really is the best way to be an ally.|
|As someone how may go blind I always wondered if there was a fear of “the dark” or does it fade a bit?||I'm not sure honestly. I've always been blind, so it's normal to me. I do know people who lost their vision who have really happy, secure lives.|
|Is sex more intense for you? And do you have sex with other blind people, if not how does it feel when you cant see the other person but he can see you naked?||It honestly depends who I'm having sex with. I don't really worry if they can see me and I can't. I've had good and bad experiences, with both blind nad sighted people.|
|Do you listen to old radio plays? I had a period of time prior to a cataract surgery where my photosensitivity was so intense I mostly lived in total darkness, and these were my favourite forms of free entertainment. I am old enough that I listened to them on radio, although most were rebroadcasts. Also, do you usually wear any kind of sunglasses or such? If so, for your own benefit, or to make people feel more comfortable?||I listened to a lot of plays in the early 2000s when I was a kid because only a fraction of books were published in braille. Audio books were expensive and also only a few books became audio. These days I listen to less of them because with things like Kindle I can read almost anything, but they were a wonderful and necessary part of my childhood that I am very thankful I was able to experience.|
|I have light perception so I wear sunglasses when it's really bright, but not for the comfort of others. I think if my eyes make people uncomfortable it's something they should address within themselves.|
|Is the halo effect a noticeable phenomenon for you as an arguably perfectly objective observer of sighted people? Have you ever been in a situation and just known that someone is physically attractive based on being inexplicably treated more favourably by others than could be reasonably expected? How do you feel about this in general?||I think so. I definitely noticed this in school. My perception is that people gravitate towards someone who is deemed to be physically attractive, but I don't know if that is true.|
|Have you ever fired a firearm or played with a sword?||I haven't. I considered going to a shooting range when I lived in the US but never did.|
|When browsing the web -- do ads really screw with your screen reader? Do you use an adblocker?||They do, and yes I do.|
|If you could tell the world one thing what would it be?||About blindness? Treat me like any other adult.|
|Not about blindness. Use your vote.|
|What's your favorite place to get a burrito?||I live in England where burritos are sadly lacking, but now I really want one.|
|Would you consider trying psychedelics and reporting back your experiences?||I've tried them before. Really weird, honestly. Mostly auditory but also some physical sensations.|
|Do you understand racism? Also what's your favorite song?||By understand, I think it's wrong, but I understand it as a concept. RAcism isn't really about being able to see colour, it's associating a race with a positive or negative set of attributes. Blind people are just as capable of being racist.|
|In terms of songs I don't really have a favourite, I've been listening to I and love and you by the Avett Brothers a lot recently.|
|I was always wondering about this one. There are days when I "overlisten" to music or sounds get pounded and louder until I can't stand it and I need to shut it out. I would go several days without music or wear noise cancelling headphones to get myself disconnected. It sometimes happens with my vision, where it's just too much information and my brain needs a break. So I'm wondering what's it like in your case, if you've ever experienced something like that? Where there's too much sensory information and you need to shut it out but you need it to get around? And another extremely random one. I work and architecture and was trying to figure out how someone would go about designing a house while blind. Besides textures, how would you try and build a house for yourself if you could?||That sounds like sensory processing disorder, which I have experienced aspects of yes.|
|I'm not sure, definitely lots of outside space and a big kitchen, but those are because of my love of being outside and also of cooking, more than blindness!|
|So this might sound weird, but my friends have a year old daughter who is blind. What kind of playing made you happiest as a kid?||Climbing, playing football, running about. Just normal kid stuff.|
|the below has been split into three|
|So two questions: you mentioned that you travelled to a couple of countries. To us, travel is a very visual experience, what is it to you? How do you experience the travel experience itself?||Travelling to me is experiencing all aspects of the culture. It doesn't have to be visual. You can meet people, go to a city, go to a park, go hiking. These are all part of it.|
|We see your inability to see as an impairment or disability out of our ignorance, what do you think seeing people lack? What is our disability?||I think we have to be careful and not view something like a lack of understanding as a disability. I am blind, and blindness is my impairment. But I'm disabled because the world around me isn't accessible.|
|ok 3rd one, out of the countries you visited, which one of them you felt a bit more challenged than the other ones?||In terms of the countries they all had positives and negatives. Colombia was definitely a new experience, but it was also my favourite place to live.|
|What is imagination for you?||That's difficult to answer. If you mean how do I imagine, through my other senses. But as to what it is, I'm not sure. It seems to be an essential part of who we are as humans.|
|What do you see in today's society that you dislike?||I'm not sure this is just a problem with today's society, but ignorance and denial regarding the reality of the world we live in.|
|My sons (age 10) are really good friends with a boy who has been blind since birth. My sons have gone to his house a few times and have had a lot of fun. I would like for him to come here, but it makes me nervous. I worry that he'll get bored or be uncomfortable. As a child, what were some of your favorite experiences with sighted friends and their family?||Being welcomed in to everyday activities. My best experiences were with people who didn't worry, who let me run around and play, who let me climb and mess about with my friends. But who also set boundaries, who told me to be quiet or to stop running, like they would any other child. Basically the best thing you can do is welcome him and treat him like any other kid.|
|Will you have children of your own even if you have a 50% chance of passing on your genetic mutation? My mother in law is blind and she passed retinoblastoma on to all 4 of her children even though each birth was a 50% chance. They all were able to retain vision though 2 had to have an eye enucleated. Later in those same 2 passed away from associated secondary cancers in the 20s and 30s bc they received radiation to stop the tumours (inherited is bilateral). I am pregnant with a baby girl who inherited the genetic mutation and at 36 weeks will deliver so they can monitor and treat the tumours. Being induced early allows the critical growth stage of 36 to 42 weeks gestation to be monitored and treated. Prognosis is good and it's considered 97% treatable but I cant help feeling that I am doing a disservice by continuing the horrible legacy of retinoblastoma. And also I wonder how she would feel knowing if she wants to naturally have children she will have a 50% chance of passing the mutation on to offspring.||I would. I will pass the LCA gene on to any child I have, but my partner would have to be a carrier for us to have a blind child. Even if my child is blind I'd know how to raise them. I could teach them to read, to travel, to do anything they wanted to. I understand it's more complex with something like RB, but I think you have to do whatever feels right for you.|
|Do you play any instruments? If so, which instrument(s)?||I used to play the clarinet but haven't in years. I was never very good at music.|
|If there was an option for surgery that granted you sight, would you consider it?||I wouldn't, it doesn't interest me.|
|What are some UI changes reddit could make to improve accessibility for the blind? What are some things other sites often do which make them difficult for you to read and navigate?||Reddit is honestly a bit of a clusterfuck. It's accessible enough, but sometimes the focus of my screenreader jumps around. There also aren't many headings used, which is the primary way screenreaders navigate online content, so it's a pain to find the section of the page that you want. In terms of other sites a lack of alt text is a huge problem. We convey so much information through images, but if it isn't tagged correctly a blind person misses all of it.|
|What would be the best way to interact with a blind person? Like let's say you went inside a new building and people there knew you were blind would you be offended if they offered to help you find your way? Or tell you how many steps there are or watch out for things that may be in your way? Would that come off as overbearing?||It's annoying when people constantly tell me, because it's actually distracting. If someone offers that's fine, so long as they listen when I say no.|
|Which genders are you attracted to? When did you realize you were attracted to them and what was it about them||Both, though men more than women. I'm not sure, I guess I was a pre-teen and I started to have crushes on people.|
|i watched a video of a blind woman with her seeing eye dog and a hidden camera try to find her way around a mall that she'd never been to before. it was so funny to watch the employees point as if she could see or the dog could understand what was going on. there was, eventually, one woman who walked her to the perfumes/jewelry and entrance so that her dog would understand and so that she knew the amount of steps that it should take. do you have these experiences often where people are just, unintentionally, entirely unhelpful?||All the time. You just get used to it. Also, we don't actually count steps, we may have good spacial awareness and can tell approximately how much distance we've travelled, but step counting is a bit of a myth.|
|[deleted]||I do. If she's in the United States I really recommend that she reaches out to the National Federation of the Blind to find out about their training centers. The Colorado Center for the Blind made a huge difference to my life.|
|Why did the moderators remove this? ||Because I can't hold up a sign with my username...because obviously I can't write. Unless they want it in braille?|
|Maybe this is question is better suited to those who raised you, but do you know if there was anything atypical about your language development? I read a case study about a blind toddler’s unusual syntax once and found it really interesting.||I'm very interested in this too. I had fairly advanced language development, which I know through speaking with my parents and reading school and medical reports. Many congenitally blind children do have atypical language development though.|
|What parenting tips would you suggest to someone who has a young child who is blind or losing sight?||Have high expectations, don't expect less of them because they are blind. Expect them to do chores around the house, to work hard in school and to be polite. They can and should do these things.|
|I occasionally see the same blind man on the sidewalk navigating the DC metro and city streets. I believe he lives around my work. Sometimes he looks completely lost. I have on a few occasions guided him to the correct train or set of stairs. He just says thank you and continues on. Is there anything else I could do to help him or be a good samaritan to other blind folks in the city?||Asking is honestly the best thing. Either the blind person will need assistance or they won't. It's worse to assume that someone does when they might not, so I feel that by asking you're already doing the right thing.|
|So I know I am very late to the AMA party here, but hopefully you still are able to answer this for me. I'm a police officer in the US in an area where we don't have a very large blind/deaf/etc community. What are some good things to know as a cop so that I can better interact with the blind? Especially, of course, victims who need to report crimes. But either witnesses who may have info or even perpetrators. I've read almost this entire thread and with some of your answers to other questions, I can only imagine how blind people may be treated by uninformed or wilfully ignorant officers.||This is such an important question, thank you for asking. Firstly, the biggest thing is to view them as credible. Obviously a blind person is capable of lying, but they aren't automatically less credible just because they can't give you a visual account of what has happened. This is a particularly pervasive problem in cases that involve sexual assault.|
|Also, if you're approaching a blind person in the street because there's a situation, it's good to identify yourself as an officer. I have no way of knowing if the person is a random stranger, who I might brush off, or a police officer unless they tell you. Some blind people will want to be given your badge, to see if you have one, or take your ID number. Try not to be upset or angry, it isn't that we don't believe you, just again that we can't visually verify what you're saying.|
|This is an interesting AMA. Thanks for doing this. My question, If it was possible through new technology to give you vision, let's say through an implant that records wavelengths of light and transmits the information to your brain allowing you to see in perfect 20/20 vision. (I am not familiar with what caused your blindness, so let's assume we are able to bypass it) It's a completely safe surgery, but the implant is permanent. Would you do it?||No, I wouldn't. My brain has adapted to my blindness, and I feel like getting vision would be really disruptive and uncomfortable.|
|As a parent it would cause me a lot of pain to think about my child being blind. Have you ever discussed how your parents felt with them?||Yes, if it does upset them, they don't show it which is so, so important. I would have hated growing up, knowing my parents wished I was someone else.|
|the below is a reply to the above|
|Becoming a parent comes with a range of emotions they don't warn us about and we can't prevent. Your parents would never wish you to be someone else, they world just want take away anything that might cause you pain. It is good to hear you had the support and love you needed.||Absolutely, but you also owe it to your child to keep some of those feelings from them. It's really damaging to know that people around you would change a fundamental part of who you are. Absolutely a parent should seek support when they have these feelings, but it should never be made obvious to the child.|
|Are you religious? Has anyone prayed for you to see? If someone offered would you be open to it? If yes, do you think other blind people would?||I'm not, if people are going to pray, I'd rather they pray I actually have a happy and meaningful life. I have no interest in seeing, some blind people do and that's totally their right.|
|When you masturbate what do you mentally picture?||Depends. If I'm in a relationship at the time I'll often think about that person and things they've said or done.|
|Do you depend on someone else or did you figure out on how to do normal every day activities that people take for granted on your own?||I can do pretty much anything alone. I can cook, clean, do my laundry, travel to and from work etc. The only thing I can't do is drive, so I'll take busses and trains or use Uber sometimes.|
|This could have already been asked, there's so much knowledge we all want to glean from you. Have you ever thought about or done a race, running, biking, swimming, or anything where you have a guide? There's some great races where you can feel the wind on your face and the sound of the trees around you. I guess it doesn't have to be a race. Just how much have you been able to feel the wind and the trees. Thank you for answering all of our questions. My respect on one, putting yourself out there and answering personal questions, and also being a complete boss on your answers.||Sure, thanks for reading. I love more extreme sports, so I've been skydiving and paragliding for example. I'd love to do more things like that. I also really enjoy skiing and tandem cycling.|
|I hope I don't sound rude, but how do you (or blind people in general) know where to go especially in a big city? Is it difficult to find shops and run errands without getting lost? Bonus question: How do service dogs know where you want to go? Like if you wanted to go to a specific restaurant for example, how does a service dog aid in getting you there?||I know by exploring, by asking questions, by learning about the layout of the city. And service dogs receive instruction from the handler. The dog doesn't actually know where it's going, it is the handlers job to give it commands like find left, or find right.|
|What do you enjoy about traveling? For me it’s the scenery. But also foods a big one. I imagine being blind, food would be the main reason. Also has anyone tried using sign language to communicate with you? I honestly worry about that misunderstanding alot||Haha maybe they have but I just didn't see them. I have been asked if I know it though!|
|And the food, meeting people, visiting different places like museums and parks, the whole aspect of immersing yourself in another culture.|
|Is the experience of sight something you wish deeply you could do? Or does the fact that you’ve never experienced it make it seem very foreign and intimidating?||It definitely feels overwhelming to the point where I wouldn't take a cure if it was offered to me.|
|While living in the US, did you find it a relatively accessible country or no? Also, I started watching your YouTube videos, and they’re great! Super informational. Makes me want to sign up as a volunteer for Be My Eyes :)||Thank you, I'm so glad that you are enjoying them. If you have any video topic requests, feel free to leave a comment on one of my videos as I may not see it in this thread as it's so big.|
|It was fairly accessible, as with most places, the attitudes of others were the biggest barrier I faced. People not believing I could do something, rather than be actually not being able to do it.|
|Do you still have Isla the guide dog? If so, was she already trained? What signals do they give to let you know there is steps, a road?||I don't. She retired last year, but she's living a very happy life with some friends of mine. She was trained when I got her, they are trained to stop at roads and steps.|
|This rivets me. My mom went blind on and off through her life. Glaucoma and surgeries. She only sometimes had sight in one because she lost the other to cataracts. Anyway. I was her eyes. I knew how to help her, somehow. Have you ever had a person you let be your eyes?||To a point, sometimes I'll ask people for visual information. But I wouldn't want to create a relationship where it's expected, I think it can result in some uncomfortable power dynamics. I'd rather get that info from a paid service like Aira. This is just my personal preference.|
|How would you rate reddit's accessiblity?||Kind of a pain, honestly.|
|Was learning Braille hard? Is Braille the same in other countries outside of the UK?||It wasn't because I was very young, so it was just like a sighted child learning print.|
|This doesn't have an easy answer. Broadly it's the same. The letters A to Z are the same in all languages that use the Latin alphabet, much like they are in print.|
|However, most languages have what is known as contracted, or grade 2, braille. So one character might represent several letters. In English, we have such a character for er, or the, or wh. Because these are common letter combinations. Grade 2 in French will be different, as will grade 2 in German.|
|English speaking countries have also had some variation when it comes to more advanced presentation rules, and certainly braille mathematics. That is why in the early 2000s Unified English Braille was created. With increases in electronic braille production, it was viewed as important to create a unified code, so that electronic braille could easily be shared between English speaking countries, and so there wouldn't be these small variations.|
|You mentioned you love books. You also mentioned that books that are meant to be realistic, but have poor depictions of blind characters frustrate you. Have you read "All the Light We Cannot See" by Anthony Doerr, and if so, how did you feel about the depiction of the blind girl?||I honestly thought it was a bit ridiculous, but not the worst I've read.|
|Have you ever tried to draw anything from your imagination and if so, what did you draw? Could you visualise the drawing after you drew it based on the shapes?||I'm horrible at drawing. I've tried on paper where the lines then are raised, but I'm just not coordinated enough. I struggle to even draw a circle unless I can draw around something.|
|Are there any questions you get that you are tired of or are just like what the hell? Also what's a question that you never have been asked but want to answer?||Honestly how I use a computer. It's exhausting that most people still don't know this.|
|And not really, I do find the deeper, more thoughtful questions interesting though.|
|Are heights or flying scary at all to you?||I actually don't like heights, so I've done things like skydiving and paragliding because I need to get over myself.|
|Do you make facial expressions? If you do, does that mean a smile when we’re happy is built into us.||I do. I can't tell you how I know them, I just do.|
|Do you think you compare yourself to people less than those of us who are sighted? So much of the standard women hold themselves to seems visual to me. Weight, beauty, aging, fashion... I imagine you not to be bombarded with these standards, advertisements, social media visuals. Do you feel less pressure on these things than you imagine we do?||I still feel a huge amount of pressure, compounded by not being able to compare myself. I have to ask people about my own appearance, which then makes me worry that they aren't completely truthful. Even if they are, it's their perception. I'll never have my own true perception of myself, because it's always filtered through information I'm given by others.|
|Is there an equivalent of line graphs and charts that blind people can use? For example did you understand the concept of exponential growth at the start of the Covid-19 crisis?||You can plot these using tactile graph papers. There are audio graphs, which can give an overview of the information.|
|Do you own a printer, 2d or 3d. Can you read print text if its embossed?||I can sort of read print if it's embossed, but often I forget the shapes of the letters and have to be reminded. I don't currently own a printer, I usually go to a library if I need a document printing.|
|i glanced over a couple of your youtube videos, and i noticed your eyeballs sort of wobble back and forth as if you're reading text with your eyes. is that a part of your genetic disorder? or are you doing that consciously, if so why?||It's known as nystagmus. It can exist as a condition on its own, but often it goes hand in hand with other eye diseases, particularly forms of congenital blindness. Essentially I have no control over the muscles in my eyes so these are involuntary movements.|
|To piggyback off the person asking about software accessibility - do you ever spend time with software on a non-personal device - like a public kiosk? Are you able to use the product if there is no headphone jack?||If it has audio output yes. But I would only use something like an ATM if it had a headphone jack so that I could access the information in a confidential manner.|
|What software do you use, especially for email? My mother is blind, stubborn, and cantankerous, always has been even before blindness. She uses an ancient version of JAWS and refuses to update, and I'd love to know what options are out there.||Jaws is good but she'd be better off using the latest version with win10. I use NVDA because it's free, and VoiceOver on my iPhone.|
|Are you often browsing on reddit? And if so, what subreddits do you visit? (You don't have to list any of them if they are too private)||Dogs, blind and the not the onion are some of my favourites. Also just browsing random things. Reddit is kind of a pain in terms of accessibility, so I honestly go elsewhere for chat, which is a shame because I like the people here.|
|I'm actually curious about how Blind People can use computers and how you can read our questions. I'm guessing a special machine is involved, but how does it work ?||I use a screenreader, a piece of software that uses synthesised speech to read out what's on the screen. I also touch type and navigate using a keyboard instead of the mouse.|
|Have you ever thought deeply that being blind was going to affect all your life and had a breakdown or were really depressed?||There have been times. Mostly when a certain aspect of my life isn't going well, so it's easy to attribute it all to blindness. When really there are usually many factors at play.|
|Have you ever tried the app “be my eyes”? It is an interesting app I found for helping with tasks. I thought it would be great to help out a blind or visually impaired person. I’ve only connected with someone once but I’d love to help more.||I have tried it, it can be really useful in certain situations.|
|How was your experience in Colombia? For how long did you live there?||I loved it, I lived there for a year and it was the best year of my life. I loved everything about Colombian culture and the friends I made there. Also, is your username because of In the Heights, or just a coincidence?|
|Do you ever feel self conscious about what you look like to others?||I do, I'm still under the same pressure other people are to look a certain way. I also feel more pressure because if I don't look good, maybe people will attribute that to my blindness and just assume I don't know how.|
|What are some things that you have done that a person who isn't blind, thinks that a blind person wouldn't/couldn't/shouldn't do?||Honestly most things, because people have such low expectations of blind people. Travel, get a job, move away from home, just have a normal adult life.|
|Looks like the mods want proof. How do you plan to do this blind?||I'm not sure how to submit proof to them? I have all my documentation if they want it!|
|Do you ever listen to audiobooks? If so, what’s your favourite?||I do, maybe the His Dark Materials trilogy. I love so many books though.|
|How do audiobooks and films (with audio description) compare to each other, is there one your prefer?||I prefer books but I think that's personality, more than blindness. My sighted sister also prefers books to tv. We both grew up reading a lot as children.|
|How do you perceive colours when you haven't seen them? When someone says "I have a red car", what do you imagine?||I don't, I just accept it as a fact and file it away.|
|Do you get motion sickness? On a roller coaster, a car, a boat or a plane? Or any other way of travel?||I don't personally.|
|Is there anything that we (i.e. the general public) can do to make things easier for you when out and about, without being patronising? I know you are certainly neither stupid nor incapable, but just wondering what I can do to be more considerate perhaps.||Mostly just asking rather than assuming someone needs help, then listening to the answer that is given. Being grabbed is the worst.|
|Hi, I am the father of a 5-month old who was also just diagnosed with LCA. What are some of the things that you wish your parents would have done differently as they were raising you? Edit: also, I understand that someone with LCA has that uncontrollable urge to press/rub their eyeballs, which my baby is doing every 10 seconds, why is that so and how best to stop it?||Hi, it's so great to meet other LCA families. I really wish they'd encouraged me to use a cane far more than they did. Developing those skills at a young age is really critical and makes for a much easier transition into adult life. If you'd like to reach out feel free to do so, I've included a lot of links in my original post and I'm happy to answer more questions, but as this thread is huge I might miss them here.|
|Hi CatchTheseWords, Hope your day finds you well. Do you find or have others commented your senses are better than the sighted? For instance do you find people can’t hear things when you can? And if so...ever considered being a super hero? Cheers!||I'd love to say it was as easy as just deciding to be a superhero! My other senses aren't any better, I just pay attention to them more.|
|When you were younger, did other children ever bully you for being blind or take advantage of your blindness to bully you more easily?||This happened mostly when I was in primary school.|
|It's great that you are self-reliant. But I cannot resist assuming there have been people in your life who must have given you the maximum amount of information about the world around you that couldn't have perceived unless you saw it yourself or unless somebody explained it to you. Who are these people and how did they help you understand the world?||Honestly mostly it was books. I learnt a lot about body language, or how things look, by reading about them. I'm also very lucky to have lots of people in my life who will answer questions if I ask them. My parents for example have always been very open with information.|
|And my orientation and mobility teachers who taught me to use a cane, and who encouraged me to explore my environment.|
|How's the quality on audio description for visual media? Do you feel you're getting a good representation of what's happening on screen?||Overall I feel the quality is high, and I usually get the information I need. Having said that, I've no way of knowing if details are left out, because I wouldn't know they were there unless someone told me.|
|I am a developer who create apps for use. How is modern technology assisting with additional needs for you? Is there additional improvements you see that could help bring internet within your reach easier?||Really complying with existing accessibility guidelines is the biggest thing, and conducting accessibility testing. Technology can remove so many barriers, but if it isn't designed to function with assistive technology it can create barriers as well.|
|What comes to mind when you think of racism?||White conservative assholes.|
|If I’m going through a door and I see a blind person approaching do I hold the door for them? Do I say “I got the door.”?||Definitely say you have it, otherwise we're likely to put our hand out for it and find it's not there. It's totally fine to hold the door, equally, if you're in a rush don't feel guilty for not holding it.|
|i've seen some blind people click their tongues or their fingers to sort of echo locate. kind of like daredevil. i've seen blind people navigate without a cane. can you do that and if so to what extent?||Navigation without a cane, unless in an environment like someone's house, is really dangerous. It's not a mark of success or achievement to do that, because with echo location you can still miss a hole in the ground and fall in it.|
|But yeah, I can echo locate, though mostly I do it passively. So for example by tapping my cane I can use that echo to gain certain information about my environment.|
|Do you drink alcohol? What is your experience like when/if you have?||I do. Usually just the usual embarrassment most people experience.|
|Who was your best teacher?||There were so so many. Honestly I was lucky to have wonderful teachers who all taught me so many things, not just about their particular subject, but life in general.|
|What software and browser-extensions are you using right now to do this AMA? What is your favorite piece of tech.||Firefox, and NVDA is the screenreader. I just use a regular PC and iPhone.|
|How do you want new people, such as a coworker to ask about your blindness?||Just be really open about it. I'd rather someone was direct than was clearly uncomfortable and didn't want to ask. Equally, remember that the person is more than just their blindness, so don't centre it in every conversation.|
|What does the Cosmos mean to you? Like how do you imagine the Cosmos outside of our own planet? Ask the stars, galaxies and stuff? Do these interest you?||It's very, very interesting to me. My greatest disappointment is knowing that I will probably never travel into space and experience it for myself.|
|Being a sighted person, I sometimes think that sight is too easy to rely on at the expense of other senses. It is so easy to get wrapped up in thoughts and overly rely on sight to function, in a lazy way. Sometimes it's difficult to live in the present moment. When I was 25 a friend would say that I was missing out on life, that I should stop and smell the roses more. I wonder if you struggle with living in the moment?||I do. I'm so concerned with my goals I often forget that there is a here and now. I think this is the down side to being so driven.|
|How are you going to know what I've asked in this question?||The same way I wrote my original post.....|
|the below is a reply to the above|
|And how is that? Also, what do you think upvote buttons look like?||Through a combination of a screenreader, a piece of software that allows blind people to access the computer through synthesised speech output of content on the screen, and touch typing. And I'm not sure, maybe a thumbs up?|
|When is your favorite language and/or accents? Also, would you mind sharing an embarrassing story? This is my favorite AMA ever. Thank you for doing this!||I learnt Spanish, and I really love Latin-American Spanish.|
|Hmm, honestly my life is a constant string of embarrassing moments, some blind related, some not. I still feel shame when I remember calling a primary school teacher of mine Grandma when I was like 5. I...don't know why. It just happened in the moment. Not like I actually thought she was my grandma.|
|Could you briefly let us know what it takes for you to record videos and post them to your YouTube channel?||At the moment I'm using a USB webcam to record my videos. I'd have to write a long post, or make a video to really show the process. There are lots of small things I have to do.|
2020.10.02 14:41 AnguisSib Hidden camera step sister
Hello everyone, I'm new in this SubReddit, and I'm new in writing, I'm currently writing my first book, in english, I'm no english mother tongue, I'm doing it to challenge myself and improve my english, so I would be glad if someone could correct me if i use past tense and continuous past tense wrong. This are the first pages (which are not untouchable) and I would like have some kind of feedback.
The moon was climbing the ocean, vainly mirroring her shiny beauty in the water.
Kalha admired that stunning picture through the window, swinging her black wooden chair, an excellent piece of craftsmanship with carved roses and snakes crawling from the legs to the backrest, drinking cheap tempranillo wine, accompanied by a full ashtray.
The young woman heard her father turning on his noisy old car to go to work.
Must have not noticed that I was awake.
She thought, and sipped another warm drop that led her vision to blur.
Completely mesmerized, for a moment she felt like the moon, became a paint stain in a clear black sky, spoke to her, a language that she could not decipher, but that recall, that sweet chant hitted her like a train of welfare, loosed her body like a rag doll, throwing her mind in another dimension at the speed of light in clutter consciousness.
Fast and heavy steps rumbled down the stairs breaking her trance, Melanie, a brilliant little lady with not many friends, passed her free time immersed in adventure books and helping in the housework.
«Bad dream?» Mel looked at her and nodded, running to her sister’s arms.
«It’s ok, everything is ok now...» Kalha said. «What did you dream of?»
«Mum, it was her, I’m sure, I was sinking in quicksand, calling her, begging her to help me, but she ignored me, she laughed and walked away until she disappeared in the mist and I didn’t had any voice left» Mel explained sobbing, with tears sliding on her face, she tightened the grip more and more to her doll, already consumed by Kalha when in younger age felt alone.
«It was just a bad dream Mel» Kahla felt guilty for not knowing what to say more.
«But it felt so real»
Kalha clutched her little sister between her arms, kissing her head.
«Within the warm embrace of a beloved one, fear and time cease to exist, leaving you in your purest form». Whispering with her most solace voice as if it were witchcraft.
The now worn candle, killed by a weak gust of wind, left the room impregnated with wax perfume, in dense obscurity, pierced by the moonlight, which helped Kahla to bring her sister by now in Morpheus' arms to bed. Once she reached the creaking stairs a sensation that someone was looking at her assaulted her, that inexplicable paranoia got bigger every step taken, she turned and looked at the shadows in the corridor come alive in her mind.
A shiver going down the spine made her hasten the pace and quickly close the door behind her, share the bed with her sister and join the dream God with her.
At first light, Kalha, already awake, showered the house with the smell of excellent coffee and freshly baked croissant, that Melanie devoured in a blink of an eye with a large fresh orange juice glass and warm milk.
«Time to go Mel»
The little girl hastily took her tiny backpack with her cloth doll, Maika, popping out of the zipper, kissed her sister and proceeded to the daily adventure path to school.
Cristalia is a touristic port city, loud talks of the market filling the streets, chaos, sweat dripped from every forehead brave enough to not be hidden in the shadows, smelly fishermans, and of course, old ladies seated on fruit crates knowing life, death and miracles of every single fellow citizen. Particularly Rodrigo, prepared to finally go home after his night shift at the port. Tall and skinny as a needle, dancing inside his work suit, with an arched big nose leaning out under his brown hat. "Poor Rodrigo", is what the old ladies said at his sight, left alone with two daughters after his wife mysteriously disappeared when the second child was in the cradle, destroyed by it, Rodrigo barely speaks to anyone about his lost love. He grudgingly knew that many rumors spread around the city about her disappearance, who say that she ran with another man, that she left because she wasn't happy, or even that she didn't want to be a mother. Bored people who like to make up mean stories for entertainment. He muttered to shake off the gossip burdening his back for years.
Rodrigo looked at the new sun, shining in the ocean from the window, with a big glass of red wine, surrounded by the smoke of his pipe.
«It's eight in the morning dad, you should drink tea, not wine»
«I work at night, the morning rule doesn't apply to me» the father justified himself and winked at his daughter.
"While everyone is enjoying their warm bed in the dark of the night I work my arse off, now, everybody is working and I drink my wine. Would you deprive an old man from his liquid imagination?"
Kahla was silent.
«How's Melanie, I barely see her in school days
I miss my little girl»
«She had a nightmare about mom just after you left for work, I'm worried about her»
«Mmm…» He exhaled like a dagger penetrated his heart.
«I should spend more time with her, I will… Today… today we will go to the zoo, have fun, have a little walk, and see those exotic animals and what the heck! One of those expensive "Mint and pistachio gelato", I'm drooling at the thought of having that thing in front of me» The father said and jumped off the chair after he gulped the remaining wine.
«Good morning!» He announced his going to bed with a silly grimace.
«Good morning…» Kahla chuckled.
The lavender candles filled the bathroom with their scent, the steam of the bathtub water condensed on the mirror, tearing drops through her naked reflection. Kahla massaged her milky white skin with moisturising cream, soaked her long black hair, reaching her bony hips, with eggs and coconut. Relaxed after a bath, Kahla started her daily meditation, to escape her mind for the necessary little time to stay sane.
She layed in bed, took deep breaths and revisited the memories of when she was a happy little kid, playing outside in the vast flower fields, almost able to smell those fantastic colorful tulips, spreading to the fields until the eye can't see. Kahla imagined herself on a swing attached to the clouds, swinging over the camps, feeling the wind caressing her cheeks and hair.
Her body shaked, little electric shocks travelled through her spine and chest, arms of fear immobilized her as she uselessly tried to lift her numb body.
The worry delayed her awareness of getting closer to the roof, she saw a thin silver string that connected her to her body, floating, she admired her unconscious shell resting on the bed, if only she could not see her face in that moment, she would have thought to have turned pale.
Did I just fall asleep? What kind of dream am I dreaming?
Her hand passed through the knob of the door and so did her, she walked to the kitchen and saw the glass with wine stains, the moka on the cooker, everything was as she left it. She paid a visit to her dad's room and saw him sleep peacefully.
This is no dream, it's too real, it can't be.
The questions suppressed fear and she flew through the roof like a bird, leading her to the majestic view of the city from above, the streets revealed their square shapes, all leading to the central market just outside the port, followed by the immense carpet of water, little white stars shined in the ocean, mirroring the rays of the sun. The moon was on the other side of the empty sky, barely visible, in silence. Kahla, euphoric, flew through the streets, looked at the people walking, probably going to work or doing some daily commissions.
The bakery shop was full of clients, as usual,
fishermans filling the crates with ice to expose the proudly fished merch in the early morning, capturing the eyes of the vacationers, probably returning home with a bad deal.
And Jacob, the watchmaker, just opened the shop. Weird, she thought. Jacob works in the afternoons. She noticed the watchmaker impatiently look at a silver handmade clock, revealing the hour from the shell of a turtle just before opening the door.
The world was still going without her, and she was seeing it from a different perspective.
With incredible speed she directed towards the horizon, looking through the crystal clear water. She had the naive sensation of being amazed by discovering and living new things in life, the sensation that only a child has the privilege to feel, unfortunately lost, once grown. She turned over, floated over the water surface and enjoyed the sight of the first clouds of the day slowly taking possession over the sun. The rain preferred to ignore her body and join the ocean underneath her instead, when a distant charming voice immediately took her attention, a voice recalling her name. Her heart jumped to her throat and the silver cord violently pushed her back to her body that bounced in bed before she could do anything.
«A coin for a poor soul, miss?» One of the beggars uselessly tried to achieve Kahla's attention, determined towards her invisible goal.
I don't even know why I came out here, looking for something, for answers, but I don't even know the questions, don't know where to go, maybe i should...
«Mussels! Fresh mussels, do you want to make your husband happy for dinner, miss?"
Kahla absently looked back at the merchant and walked away.
They look the same as the ones I was flying upon before. Or maybe my mind is just tricking me.
She thought, peering at the persons consuming breakfast in the bakery terrace, maintaining her pace under the rain while she was holding her jacket closed.
She bursted inside the clock store. The interns were made of brown wood, such a collection of clocks in such a small place, every kind of clock known was there in any material. In the middle of the shop there was a case upon a pedestal, containing a golden pocket clock with embedded sapphires and lapislázuli, the clock numbers were made of silver and in the center a shiny diamond that took away any doubt about the price of that masterpiece. The giant working clock was coming in sight through the transparent case, the roman numbers were carved inside the wall, reached by the watch hands, tall like a man, made of ebony, giving the idea of being inside a massive cuckoo clock.
«Kahla! What an unexpected visit, how can I help you love? The watch I gave you doesn't work anymore?» Jacob's heart melted, as much as everytime he looked in her eyes.
«No, the watch is perfect, I'm actually here for you»
«For me? You made my day happy, can i ask how you knew I was going to be here in the morning»
«I didn't, or at least I think so, I just came here» Kahla said, carefully choosing her words.
«Mmm ok, I…»
«At what time did you open today?»
«Eight o'clock, regular as clockwork»
«Show me your pocket clock, is it a turtle?»
«Here, is actually a tortoise, Kahla I don't understand, why these questions? Why the clock? What's going on?»
Kahla looked at the clock and gently placed it on the counter.
«I'm not sure, I got to go»
«Which one was your favourite?»
«The hippos! They are so big and they look so soft! I saw one eat a whole watermelon, twice as big as my head, in seconds! Which one was your favourite?»
«The ostrich, pretty bizarre looking animal got to say that, but that malformed chicken is the closest thing to a dinosaur that I've ever seen alive, it fascinates me»
Mel exploded in a loud laughter and his father followed her.
A moment of silence sitted with them at the bench. Rodrigo kept eating his waited Ice cream and looked at the sun going down in the horizon. It reminded him of when young and thoughtless, he was admiring the sunset, hand in hand with his future wife, making love and laughing until sunrise, he could have listened to her laughter for hours, it was something that never satiated him.
I loved you so much. He thought, directing his eyes to the sky.
The true reason why Rodrigo wasn't spending much time with his daughter was because she reminded him of her, every moment spent with the only two persons that he has left in the world, reminded him of her.
«Do you like your ice cream?»
«I don't really like the mint, it taste like frozen toothpaste»
«It taste like toothpaste to you because you grew up in a city, I grew up in a farm, the smell of those little plants, the ice cold tea with lemon and mint that your grandmother used to make… and you're too small for a nice mojito, dancing to caraibic rythms on a beach with a flower necklace. That's what it tastes like to me»
«What's a mojito?»
«You'll know one day, you'll know»
Mel looked at the sun merging in the red ocean, mother heart blushed by the awareness of her own beauty.
«The sun fled, sky blushed red, and love has spread.» the little girl recited.
«You used to say it to me before bed»
«I did, I recall when I knew that your mother was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my days.
It was sunset and we were talking about life, fell for each other and happy to be, when suddenly she looked at me with tender humid eyes and said, "I'm sorry" and just runned away.
I fell in love with your mother the first time she fled from me, and I let her, it took her three weeks to show up again, good heavens!
She had some little demons that she had to fight with, every now and then, she had to do it alone, and I respected that»
«Was she pretty?»
«Oh, my little girl, she was indeed, like a wild rose on top of a mountain, that will sting you hard if you try to pick it up»
«Do you think she's still out there? I mean… somewhere»
Rodrigo looked at the daughter he raised, changed diapers and fed not so long ago, and realized what she just asked.
«Kahla? You ok?» Rodrigo knocked.
No answer came in return from the room.
«Dinner is ready we are downstairs if you're hungry»
Melanie with a tall chef hat, stirred the tomato sauce with basil, helped by a stool to reach the cooker.
«The spaghetti are almost ready… i think»
«Yes, chef!» the father shouted while setting the table ready «We could watch a movie»
«Perfect! Of mice and men, such a masterpiece! Did you see this one already Mel?» Rodrigo said coming out from the closet that hid his vast collection of dusty vhs movies.
«I only red the book, I love it, let's watch it»
Just after a little while the film jumped and confusingly redirected the camera in a green field full of elegantly dressed people, drinking and laughing, a kiosk took the attention of the cameraman, followed by a man and his wife.
«Maybe I should take it out, we recorded over the…»
Melanie barely recognised her father, younger, happier, healthier. That was the first time Melanie saw her mother's face. Her father did not lie about her beauty, in the midst of all those people, she was radiant in her wedding dress, bright white as a light bulb, she was holding a bouquet of tulips, green eyes that mirrored her soul, long black hair entangled in the dress lace, laughing. Mel ran through a highway of contrasting emotions without realising that she was smiling back at her mother's laugh.
They looked at that video in silence, their minds spoked to loud to articulate a sentence. A silence that soon broke by Kahla, returning home soaked by the rain. Her face became even more exhausted when she looked at what her family was watching.
Rodrigo looked at her silently, she staggered a couple of steps and kissed the ground with her body producing a dull sound.
submitted by AnguisSib to writers [link] [comments]
2020.09.26 22:00 Burzumbabe Hidden step sister camera
This is very long and may be hard for some to read because I mention some past traumas to help give a better understanding of the situation so read at your discretion. **************************************************************************************************
So I’m not sure if I’m way out there for thinking this but I’m going to eventually get as close as I can to getting to the bottom of this.
My grandmother is 93 years old and had dementia a few years now. My uncle Joe lives around the corner from her and take care of her with her home care worker. My mom has told me my grandmother has been saying that she is scared of him (uncle Joe) because he molest her when no one is around and beats her regularly. My mom is sure this isn’t happening and the doctors have never found a single bruise or any piece of evidence or clue that any of this could have happened to her.
So then my cousin Ron stepped in to help. He’s a sweet guy the type who had a hard life and had to struggle but loves his grandparents and really respects and takes that seriously. He’s been driving two hours every Sunday to take care when she is alone most of the day and spend every Sunday being there for her. Except until recently. My grandma called my mom again and said out of no where she is very fearful of her life and doesn’t know what to do because Ron keeps coming by(on sundays) she said he threatened her and that he is from the mafia and told her that if she opened her mouth about it to anyone he would bring his mafia buddies to get her and hurt her and possibly kill her.
We got a camera that lets us keep an eye on her in the living room and the entry to her bedroom where she watches tv and she is there all day so we know for sure when our uncle is there nothing is happening. Yet, she is still fearful that uncle joe is going to hurt her and “touch her privates” again or molest her. Now uncle Joe has become kinda bitter and tries to push his role to any family member visiting her or in a close enough proximity that he could guilt them into doing his job.
2020.09.23 13:12 HBegamingYT Hidden camera step sister
We are safe to start anew here, free of the expectations of others
Free from the unnecessary tension that hangs over everyone beyond this point
Free from being burdened with the choice of giving "our" people False Hope for the "Greater good"
We made it
A feeling of peace and tranquility washes over the both of us, filling me with Determination
Sundin - Waterfall Entrance
This is the backstory of Chara & Asriel from Shifted Destiny, my unfinished AU. This backstory and others may be subject to change in the future
Just a friendly reminder that nobody is a bad guy. The one thing I wanna keep across Undertale and Shifted Destiny is that "Antagonist" and "Bad Guy" are definitely not the same thing
And also be sure to point out any plot holes. This story's bound to have at least one
Fun Fact: In Shifted Destiny, Monster laws differ from human laws(Ex. Chara & Asriel manage to get a house
Age Groups At The Time Of This Story:
Chara: Child to Preteen
Asriel: Child to Teenager
Shifted Destiny: Chara & Asriel
Lemme just say I'm SO SORRY FOR GETTING THIS OUT SO LATE
I may have procrastinated a bit on the weekends... But I had school. And procrastinated some more after school was finished
But I promised Chara & Asriel so without further adieu here's the story of Chara & Asriel!
As a way to once again supply his kingdom with the hope they lost, Asgore presented Chara & Asriel as Monsterkind's last hope. He told them it may not be an easy burden to bear, but it was for the good of everyone, and that he believes they will do just fine. Asgore told everyone they were working on doing something to free Monsterkind. He didn't tell Chara or Asriel what he had planned to do
One day, he had figured it out. One day Chara & Asriel told him that they would be attempting to bake a pie to remember Toriel. To their surprise, he was ok with this. But for the wrong reason. They were planning to bake the pie in the morning, so later that night, Asgore found the recipe. He changed "Cups of Butter" to "Buttercups"
The next day, they made the pie, and gave a piece to Asgore first. And he ate it. Not wanting them to get caught up in his plan, he told them that "The pie was hot", and that they should wait a little bit before eating it. About an hour, just enough time for him to become ill, and they would know not to eat it at all. When they left the kitchen, he wrote a note saying "Take my Soul, and free our people", put it inside of the pie, and left the room
Less than a half hour later, he became ill. Chara & Asriel did everything they could to take care of him. When the kingdom came together the next day for a public announcement, the king never came outside to see them. Chara did, followed by Asriel. They told everyone about Asgore's sickness. Working together, the Monsters of the Underground were able to cure him. When Chara & Asriel threw the pie away, Chara felt something weird inside of it. It was Asgore's note. She decided not to tell anyone about it, as she had figured it would only cause more problems
Timeskip a few months or somethin idk
A human fell. The second human to make it to Asgore. He came up with a new plan: Take the human's Soul, cross the Barrier, kill 6 others(Don't think I forgot about the Yellow Soul btw, that one's still there-). He took the child's Royal Blue(Dark Blue) Soul with ease. He had the Soul, and tomorrow he would break the Barrrier
Well, the next day came. And he came face to face with the Barrier once again. Even had the Soul in hand ready to absorb. But there was one problem: He started to really think about what he was doing. Out of sheer desperation, he came up with a quick plan and didn't think of the effects it would have on Monsterkind afterwards. Everyone still wants revenge. If he were to break the Barrier now, everyone might go ahead and start another war. And that worked out SO well for them last time. Not to mention, the humans attacked out of fear. Who says they won't a second time? And if the Monsters were to suddenly attack, then it would only confirm those fears
So, finally thinking clearly, he decided not to break the Barrier... Yet
A few months later, people started getting restless. Some thought the Dreemurrs simply weren't going to do anything and were buying themselves time to waste, some thought that maybe they just needed time to work on whatever it is they were doing, some rightfully thought that they was simply only doing it to give them temporary false hope. Either way, they were restless. And this reflected on how they acted towards Chara and Asriel
Fast forward a few years
One day, they couldn't take it anymore. They didn't want to be the only hope for Monsterkind anymore. So that night, they ran away. They continued to run. They had a head start but a little bit after they made it halfway through Metropolis, the Royal Guard were ordered to find them. And the REAL hardships begin. They had to lay low for the first time in their lives, and as soon as they even suspected that someone spotted them, they had to book it for the closest hiding spot. Not to mention they were just barely able to escape the Royal Scientists' sight with all those cameras, and Mettaton's sight in Waterfall, plus all the security measures in both areas. While it was much less back then, there were still a decent amount(In reality I couldn't make the trip too easy ok)
They made it to Sundin. And only had to hide for a bit longer. Chara knew how to grant them a bit of protection. They told the mayor of Sundin, retired former captain of the Royal Guard, about their problem and the hard trip all the way from New Home to Sundin. Royalty or not, Seeing two children having gone through that and coming out of it in one piece, she granted them protection in Sundin. Sundin's Royal Guard wouldn't force them to go back home, and they could stay hidden there
But considering their Royalty, they couldn't live horrible just because they were in hiding. Didja think everything was gonna be terrible? They were provided a decently sized place to live, with a few Royal Guards to protect it. And to protect them wherever they went in case they attracted any unwanted attention before the public announcement of their protection in Sundin was made. And they got to attend Sundin's school(One of the few schools in the Underground). They could start over and have a better life. They had to do a little bit more for themselves but that was ok with them. But only condition however, was that they had to stay in Sundin. Anything that happens beyond Waterfall's entrance was under Mettaton's jurisdiction, if they ever went to Waterfall, or any further, they were unfortunately on their own. So they decided not to go any further than the edge of town
Ok, things are peaceful. Now fast forward a few more years(Asriel is a teen by this point and Chara is a preteen)
A human had fallen the year before. Asriel did what he could to keep them hidden, but they were found. Chara didn't like the idea of protecting them either. Asriel wanted to find out why humans were seen as enemies. And when he found out that it was a human that had killed his sister all those years ago, he had decided something. He found himself wanting to protect the Underground from those kinds of humans. So he followed in Undyne's footsteps. He decided that he wanted to become a Royal Guard. There was just one problem. The place where Royal Guards train is in Waterfall. And they couldn't go to Waterfall without risking being found. Simple, he'd just train in Sundin right? Well, there was a second problem. He had no one to train him, and Chara wasn't too experienced with using Magic nor would she ever risk hurting him on accident. But then he remembered. The mayor Sundin, the one who granted them protection, is a former captain of the Royal Guard. Needless to say the idea he got next
He began his training that same day. That's all this "paragraph" has to say
ALRIGHT, TIMESKIP A FEW YEARS
(Asriel is a teen by this point) Asriel's Royal Guard training is complete. Chara hasn't changed much. He put on his new Royal Guardsman armor(Fun Fact: He rarely ever wears his helmet. But he needed to to make sure no one noticed him until a certain point) and for the first time, stepped foot in Waterfall. He remembered the Captain of The Royal Guard, Mettaton, and decided to march right up to his house, and ask to be in the Royal Guard
Mettaton was confused at first. He had Royal Guard armor, only members of the Royal Guard can have that. But he was surprised the minute Asriel took off his helmet. After all, the last time they had seen each other was when he was just a child. And here is the former prince, standing before him in a suit of armor, asking to be a Royal Guard. Mettaton, clearly interested by such an unexpected event, offered him a position in the Royal Guard on one condition: He challenged him to a duel. If he won, he gets the position. If he doesn't win, he still gets the position. Heck, all Mettaton wanted was something to put on TV, nothing was really at stake here. And a duel with the former prince of the Underground, to supposedly determine weather he becomes a Royal Guard or goes back into hiding definitely fits the bill
END OF PART 1
(If you wanna see Part 2, vote for Toriel's backstory next)
(And feel free to ask questions or point out plot holes in the comments. There's bound to be one that I missed!)
submitted by HBegamingYT to Undertale [link] [comments]
2020.09.20 22:53 BigfootDogmanReports Step camera sister hidden
| A Visit To the Devil’s Urinal. - The Manchester Murder Mystery|
Is there a serial killer loose in Manchester, and if so how has he been allowed to kill constantly for years and remain hidden. Shockingly when checking figures only the men found deceased on the canal are counted in the ‘Pushers’ death toll. And they are only counted if they are found along a small stretch of the canal within the inner city. On the 11th of January, 2015, British tabloid The Daily Star made the connection after using the Freedom of Information Act to check the number of deaths along the canal system, the Star's report revealed that 61 bodies had been pulled from the waters of Manchester in the last six years.
The Manchester ship canal runs all the way to the coast, and has many tributaries, yet the cases on these stretches are neither counted or investigated. In 2020 Reynard Sinaga was convicted of a number of sexual assaults on young men he helped back to his flat where he would drug them, attack them and film the ordeal. His apartment was on the canal itself, yet he is not being linked to any of the Pusher cases. Several days after his arrest the Manchester evening news reported there is no Pusher, and there will be no enquiry into the death of the many missing males who go missing here every month. There are thought to be around 90 deaths attributed to the Manchester 'Pusher' in the last 15 yrs. No deaths before this date are counted, and no missing are included in this number. 90 is the number of recovered victims. 90 Males pulled from the waterway, yet the Greater Manchester Police, Manchester City Council and the Media will tell you there is no one responsible for these deaths. If the deaths were accidental, surely safety precautions put in place would have reduced the number greatly? If these cases are due to bad lighting or hazardous walkways, why has this not been rectified. The City has Millions of pounds spent within its centre every day. Yet CCTV footage is minimal and Police presence a rarity.
And why no mention of the female victims, so many of them go missing on the Canal, in one case all that was found was a lower limb, the case was closed and reported as having “no suspicious circumstances’? Other victims' whereabouts were lost when vital CCTV evidence was 'missing' or 'unavailable' yet Manchester city centre has thousands of CCTV cameras in operation. One man phoned his parents, who stayed on the phone with him, and contacted the police. For 1 1/2 hrs the 999 call operator stayed on the line and tried to help. Yet the next day the police said although the 999 system records all calls automatically, unfortunately for this one call out of the many thousand received that day there is no record? This gentlemans phone was found many days later next to the canal in an area already searched by the police.
Man’s body was found in Greater Manchester waterway, taking the total number of deaths in the region in seven years to 85 - 3/2/16. The body of a man has been pulled from a canal in Greater Manchester. An astonishing 85 bodies - mostly men - have been pulled from the region's waterways in the last seven years. The cause behind the majority of the deaths are believed to have been established as not suspicious, but 28 are still classified as 'unexplained', resulting in open verdicts. Emergency services and a specialist diving unit were called after a body was spotted in Portland Basin at around 8.30am today. The man is white and believed to be in his 40s or 50s. A GMP spokesman said it was too early to establish how the man died or whether there are any suspicious circumstances.
Some recent deaths have caused speculation that loved ones were the victims of a serial killer they dubbed The Pusher - a psychopath who murders his targets by bundling them into the icy waters. Some families believe their claim has considerable substance not only because of the disproportionately high numbers of people to have died in the rivers, but due to the suspicious circumstances surrounding the deaths of several men.
Man’s body found in water at Salford Quays 3/6/20 - Police are investigating after a man’s body was found in water at Salford Quays. Shortly before 1pm today the body of a man was discovered in the water near the Salford Watersports Centre. His body was recovered from the water by Greater Manchester Fire crews along with police.
A little like the Smiley faced killer in America the Pusher has a penchant for young men. Although as of yet no handy signature has been left at the scene. The men are often out in town, enjoying a meet up with mates, or spending their hard earned wages from the previous few days. The men, some of which are boys, are often separated from their friends for one reason or another. Many of them have phones and wallets intact when found. Which speaks of no robbery and the ability to get a cab home. So how do they vanish and appear in or next too Manchester's notorious water way?
One local resident called the Canal the ‘Devils Urinal’ due to the number of crimes committed along it's stretch and the many hundreds of people it has killed in the history of its existence. My Grt, Grt grand parents on my Mothers side left Ireland to build the canal in the 1890’s. Tinkers and Navvies they were called. Hard working men who were paid pennies to work in the deadly conditions. The canal which is really a River system made it easier for goods to be transported between Manchester and the docks at Liverpool. It made Manchester an inland port and changed the fortunes for many, good and bad. 130 men were killed during its construction. And many perished later due to the harsh working conditions. The canal was bombed over and over during the war, it shaped the city of my birth. Gone are the original communities like Hanky park and Langworthy. Over 200 years and the deaths continue, many of the cases closed regardless of circumstances. Many petitions have been presented from families asking for an inquiry into the deaths.
The next case we look at I feel should be high on the list of investigations to be re-opened.The glaring incompetence of the Police in this case was so bad it almost smacks of a cover up. It is at the very least gross negligence. Like most of the cases there was very little investigation done. People even today have the 'they were drunk' attitude when it comes to these cases. Or even worse, 'they put themselves in danger by being where they were'. Yet millions of people visit the city centre night clubs and bars everyday, restaurants, cafes and shops and make it home just fine. These cases are different. And when you see them all together you begin to realise there could be something to the rumours that a killer or several killers are at large in the Manchester area. Times that by every waterway, in every city and the figures become staggering.
Find out who Killed our Son!' Parents hear "Howls and Screams" in their son's final call? - Tragic David Plunkett’s chilling screams, heard by a 999 call handler, were not taped because the recorder was not working, claimed GMP Police. The officer who dealt with the “distressing” call was so appalled by the blunder she later resigned. The phone call from David, 21, who came from Halifax, W Yorks, was the last anyone heard from him before he was found dead in the Manchester Ship Canal three weeks later. He vanished after leaving a nightclub at Trafford Park near Manchester in April 2004. His reason for being ejected? he pushed into a queue for the gents toilets. This sadly changed the course of his life and left his family and friends devastated.
At his inquest we heard that his anguished parents rang him to check if he was OK after hearing he had lost his pals. He started to scream and howl. They dialled 999 on another phone and held the two handsets together so the police operator could hear his distress. It was the last time they spoke to their son. The pair called their son's phone the night he died, only to hear terrified screams. Anne said: 'The screaming and howling was so unearthly that you just felt it had to be something.'
This message was Issued from a former GMP officer who handled the call. The woman, who we are not naming, said: “I took a very distressing 999 call.” She said David had been “in a distressed state” during the call with his parents “but they could not hear anything other than their son screaming”. She added: “I dealt with them for well over an hour, trying to sort out assistance for them and him. "The incident still haunts me to this date and with every death I see reported in the news I become more and more convinced that these are murders and not accidents.”
A pathologist said the likely cause of death was drowning and the inquest ruled it was accidental. But David’s mum Anne, 66, disagrees. And she hit out at the police probe into her son’s death. The retired head teacher said: “Someone is responsible for David’s death. The police investigation was unacceptable. "It was a case of ‘young man, too much to drink, falls into the canal, end of story’. "But so many important factors were ignored and there were versions of events that simply did not add up.”
David Plunkett had been at a concert at the Daytona Racetrack, also in Trafford Park, before he went missing in April 2004. Recalling the last time she spoke to her son, Anne said: “I could barely make out what he was saying. "He started screaming and howling. "It was extremely distressing. "I thought he was being attacked. “We rang the police and put the phone to them but it soon went dead. "It later turned out the call wasn’t recorded because the tape recorder wasn’t working. "It really does beggar belief.” Anne said her brother found David’s phone upstream from the body – despite an earlier police search. She added: “The whole case leaves more questions than answers. "He could have been attacked, he could have had his drink spiked. "Anything could have happened.”
"In the early hours of the morning, the phone went and it was David's friend Michael," his mother, Anne, stated. "He said he'd lost David and was trying to get in touch with him. He said he and David had lost each other in the club, and I just said to close the phone and I'd try to call David. It took about three attempts before David answered, but he didn't speak. The first thing that struck me was the quietness of where David was. It was virtually silent. All I could hear was the sound of him walking, that was evident from his breathing, and I said, 'Do you know where you are? Are you in Manchester? Do you recognise anything?' – but I got no response from him. And then, about seven or eight minutes into the call, there was suddenly this ghastly screaming. I started crying, handed the phone to my husband, Mike, and I made a 999 call"
"The screaming I heard," continues Mike, "made me feel like David had seen something that had terrified him." Then at 4:30 AM," says Anne, "the phone just went dead."
It took the police two weeks to find his body in the canal. They claimed to have searched the area and nothing was found. His uncle found his phone not too far from where his body was recovered after the supposed police search. What happened to David that night. The area of the nightclub is well lit, there are taxis outside and lots of numbers advertised in the foyer. walking towards the lights makes far more sense than wandering out of the bustle and towards the canal. Why did David not contact his friend? Were there any missed calls or texts between them? Why did the police not track David's phone and his movements that night. There is CCTV coverage in the area. Even though it was late people would have been around. It's a popular area even at night. Was anything missing from David when he was finally recovered. Were there any signs of injury? Sadly the case is now closed and there will be no further investigations or enquiries made.
A Man was Hurled into a Canal at night - Rumours of a possible serial attacker have been revived after a 34-year-old office worker was thrown into the city’s Bridgewater canal then kicked back in as he tried to save himself from drowning. The victim, who said he almost drowned after his legs became tangled in his bicycle while he was below the surface of the canal, said he had asked police about the “Manchester pusher” legend and that “they were well aware of the stories”. “I definitely feel like I’m lucky to be alive. I could easily have drowned because of what he did,” The Pusher was described as a white male aged between 20-40, he is of average height and was wearing a black jacket.
Tom says he is "disappointed" with the police response and said the canals were the perfect place for crime. "It's pitch black down there," he said. "There's no lights. You look up, someone catches your eye and then in four seconds you're in dirty water."
Tom is right, it takes a split second to push someone into the murky waters of the canal. There are areas below the bridges and walkways where you do not walk at night or in the day for fear of your safety. Many drugs deals, robberies and hate crimes take place in these hidden spots. Out of the way from busy shoppers and party goers. Once you leave the bright lights of central Manchester you are confronted with an almost Victorian street mentality. Pickpockets, homeless folk and thieves are around every corner. Add to this the lack of officers to attend incidents and you have a perfect melting pot for committing crime and getting away with it. If you want to steal someone’s phone, money, sense of security or life, do it in the back streets of Manchester and you won't have to pay a price.
8/6/18 Orlando Nyero was celebrating his 19th birthday in Manchester. Three days later his body was pulled from the Canal, which runs through the heart of the city. But he was not the first man to be found in that very spot, another victim had already died after a night out, and his body was discovered only 3 months earlier. Orlando was found in the same waterway as student Charlie Pope, also 19. Orlando and Charlie are among 90 people who have been recovered dead from Greater Manchester’s canals since 2007. There are many more who are reported missing never to be found.
Nick Pope spoke about his son Charlie and his mysterious death ""Look around here, it's just a bloody death trap," he says, as people drink outside at tables a few metres from the water's edge" The lighting is bad and there is no CCTV. Nobody knows what happened to Charlie that night. Three months later Orlando was found in almost the same spot. 19-year-old, Orlando Nyero, drowned a few hundred metres further down the same stretch of water. Orlando's brother, Sam Abui, was with him that night and said they had been celebrating a birthday in the city. "The police said it was an accident. It was a tragic accident," he said.
Manchester City Centre is a hot spot for tourists and party goers alike, there is also a huge student population close to the centre as Manchester has a number of colleges, universities and teaching hospitals. Thousands of people visit the city each day and the evenings are no exception. Yet step two streets away from the bright lights and you will find yourself in the city's seedy underbelly. The central gardens in Piccadilly are a very good example of this. Many years ago the gardens were a lovely place to be. I would often sit there and eat my lunch each day, as I worked in the city centre, but at night it was a place to be avoided. Drug pushers and drunks abound, and one street away you have the heart of the city's red light district. Now sadly you have to avoid the back streets and the gardens even in the daytime, the police are short handed and understaffed. There is no help out there on the streets other than your own. People are killed, raped and attacked on an almost daily basis.
Yet the City Council, the local newspaper and media will deny there is a problem, numerous times it has been stated there is not a problem in Manchester when it comes to crime. The men and women pulled from the canal are in there by choice, or due to bad judgement of their own. The powers that be refuse to admit there is a problem with 'date rape' drugs, yet hundreds of cases are handled by Greater Manchester police each year. In the past year alone two men have been arrested and jailed for this very crime.
Police have charged a man over the death of popular Northern Quarter chef Hiran Chauhan whose body was found wrapped in plastic in woodland close to Buile Hill Park in Salford shortly before 8.10am on Tuesday 9 July 2019. Police descended on a small patch of woodland close to Buile Hill Park at around 8:10 am 9/7/20 after they were alerted to a body having been found by school children which appeared to be wrapped in plastic. The children were heading to school for morning lessons at the nearby Buile Hill Academy when the grisly discovery was made.
Hiran had last been seen making his way home from work in Manchester on the 2nd of July, he later was seen exiting a tram at Langworthy at around 11:31pm but tragically he never made it to his room in a rented house he shared with others. Neil Cuckson (16/10/1987) of Eccles Old Road in Salford has been charged with Administering a Noxious Substance, Supplying class A and class C controlled drugs, Perverting the Course of Justice and Preventing Lawful Burial and will appear at Manchester Crown Court, Crown Square on Thursday December 19 2019.
Reynhard Sinaga: 'Evil sexual predator' jailed for life for 159 attacks - Reynhard Sinaga was found guilty of luring 48 men from outside Manchester clubs to his flat, where he drugged and assaulted them - filming the attacks. Police say they have evidence Sinaga, 36, who is being named for the first time, targeted at least 190 victims. The Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) said Sinaga was "the most prolific rapist in British legal history". The judge ruled his life sentence must include a minimum of 30 years in jail. The postgraduate student was already serving life, with a minimum term of 20 years, for the offences he was convicted of in two earlier trials, which took place in summer 2018 and last spring.
Detectives say they have been unable to identify a further 70 victims and are now appealing for anyone who believes they may have been abused by Sinaga to come forward. At the hearing, Judge Suzanne Goddard QC said Sinaga was "an evil serial predator who has preyed upon young men" who wanted "nothing more than a good night out with their friends". "In my judgment you are a highly dangerous, cunning and deceitful individual who will never be safe to be released," she said - adding that the decision to release prisoners is made by the Parole Board.
Sinaga would wait for men leaving nightclubs and bars before leading them to his flat in Montana House, Princess Street, often with the offer of somewhere to have a drink or call a taxi. He drugged his victims before assaulting them while they were unconscious. When the victims woke up many of them had no memory of what had happened. The student, who denied the charges, had claimed all the activity was consensual and that each man had agreed to being filmed while pretending to be asleep - a defence described by the judge as "ludicrous".
At an earlier sentencing, the judge said she was sure that Sinaga had used a form of date rape drug such as GHB. The rapist was caught in June 2017 when one victim, who regained consciousness while being assaulted, fought Sinaga off and called the police. Assistant Chief Constable Mabbs Hussain said the true extent of Sinaga's offending would probably never be known. "We suspect he's offended over a period of 10 years," he said. "The information and evidence we are going from is largely from trophies that he's collected from the victims of his crimes." Investigators traced dozens of victims from the videos using clues found in Sinaga's Manchester flat, such as stolen phones, ID cards and watches.
The flat mentioned in the article was situated ideally for Sinaga, in fact it was on canal street itself, his balcony overlooked the canal. Was he responsible for any of the mystery deaths, it would be easy to quietly push somebody from your first floor level into the canal below. Or to slip out of the building with a rug or suitcase in the dead of night and rid yourself of a problem. Yet the police state there is no connection between Sinaga and any of the 'Pushers' suspected victims. It would have been very easy for him to pick up lone males and offer his help. Come back to mine, phone a taxi and we can have a drink while you wait, was probably said a hundred times by Sinaga. How many other Sinaga’s are out there, unknown? How many have there been before him, predatory males, who use Manchester centre as their dumping ground?
I grew up in Manchester in the 70’s and 80’s. I was a young lass when the Yorkshire ripper cases started to be reported. I remember another level of fear each time a new body was recovered. I remember curfews for women and men questioned by police because they had a Northern accent or drove for a living. I remember the tape of Wearside Jack being played in school assemblies and on the TV at home. I remember our neighbour being murdered around that time, she was coming home from the pub. She was so badly disfigured and abused by her murderer the police counted her as a Ripper victim until her killer was caught. And I remember the snide remarks of “well she put herself in that position” “if she had been home seeing to her husband this would not have happened” I was so shocked by these comments they still sit with me. And yet 40 yrs on it's still a popular public opinion.
I highly doubt the lady in question set out that night intending to be cruelly killed, disemboweled and left for dead on scrap land within feet of her own front door. Back then the ladies would work all week and on a saturday, with their best frock on and hair newly set and ready they would go to bingo or down to the local pub or club, for a few port and lemons and a natter with their friends. Pubs shut at 10.30pm then. Back home with a chippy supper and hopes of a lie in tomorrow morning were probably the last actions and thoughts she had. She was somebody's Mum, sister, daughter and wife, an aunt and a niece and probably someone's best friend. And because she joined her friends from the mill or factory for a drink she deserved what came her way. That's shocking, but what shocks me more is 40 years later we utter the same words. “If he was at home this wouldn't have happened” “why put yourself in that position” has been said about every one of the missing males found in the Canal. And they are someone’s son, father, brother, uncle and nephew, they had mates they went to the gym with, or played footy with as kids. Ordinary working class lads letting their hair down and having a good time, before it's back to work on Monday morning. We all did this and still do, in towns and cities across the UK. Getting spruced up and meeting your mates after working all week was the norm. I remember hundreds of times I rushed back home on payday to get ready to go out when I was young, free and single. I have attended 18th’s, 21st’s, Hen do’s, Birthdays in the pubs and clubs. And made it home safe and sound each time. I am one of the lucky ones. see part 2
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2020.09.20 19:49 Polterkites The man in my basement takes one step closer every week. [Part 2]
I - II - III - IV - V - VI
I stood at the living room window, waiting. Finally, the garbage truck pulled up to the curb. A heavy-set man in a bright orange vis-vest stepped off the back, spat dryly onto the pavement and hoisted my garbage into the back-compactor. Climbing onto the truck, he unceremoniously tossed the aluminum bucket back onto the road. My sense of relief vanished-
-Inside the bucket was a foot-long splinter—a lingering remnant of the coat-rack. Bursting out through the front door, I yelled after the garbage truck. It lurched to a grudging stop. Blood rushed into my face as I forced a smile. I strode across the yard, bent over, reached into the can, grabbed the splinter of wood, and tossed it into the truck. The heavy-set man blinked disinterest as they drove off towards the next house. The truck's compactor pressed down with a satisfying crunch.
There was a strange comfort in it, as though the coat-rack held some special power—a special power which, upon its destruction, had lifted. Strolling back toward the house, I caught myself smiling, humming. Almost feeling happy. I wrapped my hand around the front doorknob, and- a sharp pain shot up my wrist. My hand swung back like an electric shock. Gritting my teeth, I turned my palm around. A splinter about the size of a blood-test needle was lodged in between my thumb and pointer finger. I breathed in, yanked it out, exhaled, and tossed it back over my shoulder. I stepped inside.
When I pulled the door shut, red smeared across the brass knob. I turned over my hand again- A thin line of blood trailed out from the puncture-hole, snaking down towards the tip of my thumb. Wrapping my other hand around the 'wound,' I marched back towards the kitchen.
The bandages were in a tray on top of the fridge. I pulled them down and wrapped my hand up. Turning around, I leaned my back against the fridge, marveling at how quick my good mood soured. All it took was a wooden splinter. At that point, another thought crept into my head. Part of me, the paranoid, irrational part, wanted to go back and find the splinter, take it out past city limits and burn it. I actually had to fight the urge to go back and do this. * It's a coat-rack*, I reminded myself.
Either way, I took comfort in the new security systems. Motion camera's outside, alarms on every door and window—big stickers advertising the system to any would-be intruders. I even checked every corner of the house just to ensure nobody was hiding inside. Looking back, I still hadn't fully processed the fact that somebody took the time and effort to sneak into my house and set a coat rack in the basement corner. Not steal anything, not even move anything, just set a coat rack in the basement corner. The fact lodged into the back of mind like a stubborn popcorn shell stuck between teeth.
Hunched over my laptop at the kitchen table, I took a sip of bitter black coffee. Thanks to the pandemic, all work was homework now. That was fine by me. I always preferred staying at home to just about anything else anyways. Typing away furiously, I was finally falling into that ever-elusive zen state of work. Coding line after line until-
-My cell phone buzzed against the plastic vinyl tabletop. Unknown number. I reached over and froze. Something told me not to answer it, something told me to block the number. I shook it off and answered regardless.
"Brandon Miller," Said the voice on the other end. I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.
"I'm calling about the note," he continued. He sounded young, early twenties maybe. "The one on your doorstep."
"Yeah, I was the one who left it there."
I didn't respond; I didn't know how to respond.
"Look. I know it's weird, trust me, I know better than most. The thing here is to make sure you understand what's going on. To make you take it seriously. Does that make sense?"
I didn't answer.
He sighed, anxious, "Look. I know you think I'm crazy. Shit, I might be. I just… I need to talk with you in person. I -"
"-Don't call this number again," I said plainly. I ended the call. Set the phone down. Leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.
In hindsight, I regret my coldness here. But in my defense, I'd seen enough real-life horror by then. I was pushing forty and well acquainted with the crushing mundanity of real-life suffering. I had no desire to indulge in made-up nonsense. I-
-KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
My heart skipped a beat as the pounding at the front door continued. I slid back on my chair and stood up. Fist clenched, I marched across the room and yanked open the door. There stood a young man, tall and dressed in a white shirt and black denim pants, "Look. I'm really …sorry to be this persistent, but..."
I immediately recognized his voice from the phone call. I had to admit, the way he looked was surprising. Until now, I imagined a weaselly looking, basement-dwelling internet troll. But this guy almost looked like a low-key movie star. Young Marlon Brando vibes. Regardless, I didn't know what to say. He looked down, kicking his feet awkwardly at the ground. He looked up.
"Look. I just need five minutes," he said, "I'll explain everything and never come back." His eyes were filled with sincerity. Years of suffering hidden beneath a desperate smile. I looked around; other neighbors were milling about, a few were glancing over, concerned. I looked back to him, "Fine." I said, my voice dripping with skepticism.
He looked back over his shoulder, then back to me. "We can't talk here." He said, "Let's go for a walk if that's alright."
I consider myself a pretty good judge of character, and he didn't seem dangerous, he seemed genuinely worried. If anything, my curiosity was in control now.
Early evening overcast gray cast over the suburbs. We walked down the street, side by side, six feet apart, silent. Our shoes scraped against concrete. The smell of outdoor barbecues lingered in the air. He looked back over his shoulder again. We were about four houses down from mine.
"First off…" He said, looking forward again, "I want to apologize." He slid his hands into pockets as he walked, "I don't really know the best way to… uh… approach something like this, and I'm sorry for being so cryptic."
I grunted non-commitally.
"Second, I… really don't expect you to believe me." He continued, "Unless I saw something firsthand… I wouldn't believe me either." He looked up at the clouds and squinted as diffused sunlight cast against his face. The sky was spitting rain now. Invisible drops, you could only feel. Sporadic, icy pinpricks against the skin.
"Maybe I'm crazy, I don't know." He continued, "My father probably was. I mean, that's what we all thought when he finally …" He looked back over his shoulder again, his eyes filled with regret.
"Look." He ran a hand through jet black hair, "Take it seriously for the first couple weeks and see where it goes. If it's bullshit, then it's bullshit."
I still wasn't quite sure what to say. At this point, I believed that he believed, but that wasn't enough to change my entire worldview.
"All you can do is search for ways to slow him down. Invite people over as much as possible." He continued, "I know there's the pandemic. Hell, invite a stranger over rent-free if you have to."
"Whose living in your father's house?" I asked suddenly.
"…I don't know."
"You don't know?"
He shrugged again. "I haven't been there since…" trailing off into silence, he grimaced, looking around as if the words might be somewhere close.
"I grew up here." He said, changing the topic. "My sister and I used to collect pine-cones in the park." He pointed across the street. Park was a generous word for an empty lot with a couple trees and a bench.
"We'd sell them to the neighbors…" He said, almost smiling, "Pine-cones, five cents a piece." He shook his head like a chill went down his spine. "Look. You've just gotta take the rules seriously." He suddenly shifted back to the previous topic. I still wasn't convinced.
"You don't know who's living in your father's house?" I said, "Did you sell it?"
He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Don't try to understand this." He said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his thumb, "The more you try to make sense of it, the more you try to rationalize… It only gets worse."
Sounds like a death-cult mantra, I thought. "Sure," I said.
"You have my number still?"
"If anything happens, you have any more questions. Call me. Anytime. Seriously any time. Four AM if you have to. I don't care."
"It's Mitchell, by the way." He gave a little wave, turned away, and strolled off down the street, leaving me even more confused than before. Worse than that, I was beginning to consider the possibility that this might actually be real. A possibility made all the more disturbing due to the fact I'd already broken nearly every rule. His sincerity was unsettling.
By the time I got back home, it was dark out. I stood at the front door, rifling for my keys when-
"-Brandon?" A familiar voice called out from behind. I turned back to see Howie, standing on the curb. I almost didn't recognize him at first. He wore a blue track-suit with a blue pencil tucked behind his ear and blue headphones wrapped around his neck.
Must be out for an evening jog, I thought.
"Howie," I said.
"Walker's kid spoke with you, huh?" he rested his hands on his hips.
"What he say?"
I shrugged, "Same stuff as the note."
Howie shook his head as if to say, I expected as much. "Poor kid," He said. "At least he'll stop bothering you now."
"Yeah." Just then, beside the house across the street, the outdoor motion light snapped on. Howie looked back to see what I was seeing. Through the cracks in the fence, a lined silhouette stood up against the boards. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it almost looked like someone stood there watching us, peering through the fence-cracks. But the yard was filled with junk, so it could've been anything.
Howie turned back to me, "Anyways." He said, pulling up his headphones and turning away.
"Who's living there now?" I said. Howie froze, lowered the headphones, and turned back.
"Not sure." He said.
"They never sold it?"
"So, it's empty?"
"I've seen someone, maybe a few someone's millin' about inside."
"Ever seen them outside?"
Howie tilted his head, thinking. He clearly never paid much attention to it. "I don't think so." He said, "But I gotta gold-fish memory" He chuckled, shrugged, reached to put his headphones back on and-
"-OH!" his face lit up, "I've been stuck on this," he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out from his jumpsuit pocket and read: "A thin piece of metal which glows brightly when a current passes through." He looked up at me, his eyes filled with hope, "Eight words across, first letter 'F,' third letter 'L'"
The light across the street snapped off and a light inside snapped on. Window blind shadows cast from inside as someone moved through the living room.
"…Filament," I said. Eyes still locked on the house across the street.
Howie scribbled away, "That's it! My God, that's IT!" it sounded like he'd just won a thousand bucks. He looked at me, "You're brilliant."
I looked back to Howie, "Glad to help." I said.
"Anyways." Said Howie, his enthusiasm suddenly gone, "See you 'round." He pulled his headphones up and jogged away.
I stood there, watching the house across the street. The light inside was still on, but no more movement. I turned back to my door, turned the key and stepped in. Pulling the door shut behind me, I strode into the living room and looked out the window. The house across the street was dark again. I pulled the curtains shut and turned back for the kitchen. The strange smell of gasoline and burnt hair lingered in the air still. Subtle, but unmistakable. I flicked the light on, sat down at the kitchen table and stared blankly at the wall. Harsh fluorescent glow vibrated against the white stucco. I should get warmer light bulbs, I thought. Then another thought crawled into my head. A thought that was slithering around in my subconscious for the past couple hours:
Mitchell, the dead neighbor's son, did not put the coat-rack in your basement.
Of course, it's possible he did. But after talking with him, it seemed… unlikely. This raised another question: who put the coat-rack in the basement?
Another neighbor? Possibly.
The person or persons living across the-
The sound of a door popping open interrupted my thoughts. I looked back over my shoulder, across the living room, in the front entrance hallway, the basement door was open. Just a crack. A thin line of darkness.
I marched upstairs, grabbed my switchblade from the bedside table and stormed back down. Each footstep heavier than the last. Knife clenched in my left fist, I swung open the basement door and flicked on the light.
"I'm armed." I said, trying and failing to sound like a threat, "If anyone's down there, make yourself known now."
Silence. Nothing but the hum of buzzing light bulb. I took a deep breath and exhaled, "Okay." I whispered, taking a slow step forward.
I used to mock people in horror movies for always going down into the basement. But in the moment, it weirdly felt like my best option. It was that or leave the house or try to sleep, knowing it's possible that someone is hiding in the basement. Call the cops? Tell them I found a coat-rack? Most cops don't even have the time to worry about stolen cars, let alone 'misplaced' furniture. None of these choices felt appealing.
I reached the first stairwell and peered around the corner. Somehow, the hallway seemed darker than before. I flicked the light switch. Warm glow cast over-all.
The light wasn't working last time.
I stepped forward. The familiar smell of burnt hair and gasoline getting stronger. The short walk down the hallway feeling like eternity. I stepped into the rec-room. Both corners were empty. I breathed relief and felt blood rush into my face. Once again, embarrassed at my own paranoia. I pocketed the switchblade and turned back when-
-something caught my eye. In the far-right corner, behind a stack of cardboard boxes, water. A thin layer of surface tension slowly spread across the shiny concrete.
They never said anything about leaks when I bought the place. I crossed the room and squat down. There were scattered clumps of wet dirt too. No source for the leak.
The circle of water slowly expanded outward. I stared into it, and my crystal-clear reflection stared back. I need a haircut.
My face rippled as a single drop fell from above. Of course. I looked up.
I squinted, nothing but pink insulation and two-by-four beams. Could be a faulty pipe, I thought. Might explain the weird smells too.
-A door slammed shut. Upstairs, around the corner, the basement door slammed shut. I jumped to my feet, whipping out the switchblade. Before I could process what happened, everything went dark. Pitch. Fucking. Dark. The kind of dark that makes everything sound like it's right next to your ear. The kind of dark that made your thoughts visible. I fumbled for my phone and dropped in onto the concrete. Fuck. I squat down, flailing in the dark. Sliding my hands against the cold, smooth floor, desperately searching for the phone. Searching for the light. The smell of burnt hair growing stronger all the while. No phone. Only concrete and cardboard boxes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Panic swelled up inside my chest like a balloon, threatening to burst right through my rib-cage. I froze. I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed in. I breathed out. The panic stopped growing. It didn't get worse; it didn't get better. It held in a state of pure survival. Clenching my eyes shut, I rose to standing. I didn't even know which direction to go anymore. I followed my gut and took a step forward.
Up ahead, seven quick thumps staggered down the staircase and slammed against the corner wall. Silence. A sliding sound scraped against the drywall as if something rose to standing. A sickening chill went down my spine.
My hand clenched tight around the switchblade. "You have about three fucking seconds..." I said, once again failing to sound like a threat. Three seconds went by. Five seconds. Ten. Only silence. The sound of my own panicked breath and silence. Fuck it. Knife pointing forward, I rushed ahead. Screaming my best attempt at a war-cry as I flew through the dark. My ankles slammed against the stairs and I sailed forward, slamming chin first into the corner stairwell. Swiping and flailing the blade like a blind madman all the while.
The light snapped on.
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Flat on my ass, backed into the corner of the stairwell, I looked around. There was nobody here. I looked up at the shut basement door. Nothing. Mind still racing, I turned to look down the hallway. Stood in the center of the rec-room, shattered splinters held together with nails and wire: The coat-rack.
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